


Of Flesh and Stone

by Dr_Compass



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternative Perspective, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Pre-Mass Effect 1, Slow Build, Transhumanism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:14:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 89,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28757160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Compass/pseuds/Dr_Compass
Summary: An expedition to the other side of the Milky Way Galaxy goes south rapidly, leaving a small sect of mankind isolated to their own devices.  They're without help or word from Earth and settled on a borderline inhospitable rock.  What they're left with is ancient ruins of those that had inhabited their new planet long before them.  With little alternative, they rebuild themselves inside and out to live long enough to explore what lies beyond the horizon.  They could not predict how the rest of civilized space will treat them and how the changes they've made to themselves will play into the future.
Relationships: Brief Original Male Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 3
Kudos: 9





	1. The New World

**Author's Note:**

> This was a personal project a few years back and it's been sitting on my bucket-list for a while now. While it didn't turn out the best, it at least did offer a number of hard-earned lessons for writing in stories and otherwise. It's been sitting there for some time and I've gradually been building up the urge to revisit, lightly rework, and adjust with 20-20 hindsight and the lessons learned from the first run through this. Also, the buildup to anything bigger will be a bit slow. Got some context and world building I gotta chew through. Maybe a macgufffin more than recommended.

_Dad tells me lots stories about Earth. Mostly about how much he misses it, but he does talk about how birds were more plentiful and of different sizes than what they have down in the observatory and how trees and greenery were much more plentiful. He said maybe I would get to see them dot the sky once we fully turn this planet into a second Earth. At least that’s how he described ‘terraforming.’ Even he admits he didn’t see how plentiful these were a hundred years ago. I would like to see Earth someday. It sounds like a beautiful place._

* * *

**Nov 17, 2052**

**Eastern Border Mines, 18 miles NE of Delta Station**

Wyatt Reid continued to grunt in frustration as he began working his final touches on the broken machine. It was the fifth time the drill had shorted out within the last twelve hours and it felt like breakdowns were becoming more frequent. The rock layers on this newfound planet had a tendency of kicking up dust storms during the digging process and would clog up the equipment’s heat ventilation before eating at the drills’ various locomotive components. The brass did at least promise better ventilation was being manufactured on-site and would mitigate the issue.

"Well? You done down there?" An impatient voice hollered from the top of the mining drill.

As Wyatt finished, he turned off his headlamp, rubbed any sore-spots through his enviro-suit and looked up to his colleague. "I think that should hold, now give the thing a jolt and see if she runs," he said as he replaced the panel on the combustion module. He heard a sharp, grinding sound before the room around him came to life.

The same voice from above cried out in satisfaction. "She’s purrin’ like a cat Wyatt! I’ll let you know!"

It took Wyatt a little while longer to respond as he screwed the maintenance hatch back shut. "Get back to it, Vincent. Get as much time as you can with this thing while it lasts. You may get a new shiny toy in a few months."

The miner’s scoff was barely audible. "A few months? We’ll be sitting on a scrap yard by the time any new equipment arrives from Earth."

"Just keep at it. The fat bastard’s already breathing down my neck. Just look busy." Bernard Vincent was thorough as a mule, but incredibly impulsive. Some of the other workers held a betting pool for how many times a month he would reset the ‘days without incident’ sign. On the other hand, he was a natural-born swindler.

"Oh crap. Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Look sharp!" Vincent’s voice reduced to a whisper like steam from a leaking pipe.

Barry Locke was a thorn in the side of the mechanics and miners on the colony. Despite his dull, obese exterior, Barry was fast, strong, abrasive, and short tempered. He put the force on edge and could smell fear through the worker’s environmental suits like a shark smelled blood. Barry stopped at the foot of the drill before glaring at the two. "I assume the drill will work without dying, Bernard?"

"Y-yes boss," Vincent mumbled.

"You haven't answered my question yet, Bernard," Barry prompted, layering on the acid in his voice.

Wyatt decided to bite the bullet. "Yessir, the drill is operational. Still waiting on that new drill from the powers that be promised." Wyatt held a bit more confidence than his counterpart. It was expensive to move personnel and equipment between the colony and Earth, leaving Barry with no other option than to make do with what he was provided.

The fat thing just huffed. "Well it’s your lucky day. A supply ship is arriving from Earth. HQ just radioed in to let me know they want several mechanics on sight to load and prepare her for her return to Earth. Since you’ve had the wherewithal to bring your family to this rock, I’ll be generous enough to let you see ‘em off."

Wyatt gave a saluting gesture as the prospector left before turning to his coworker. "Remember, you owe me a beer." With the enthusiasm of a kid on Christmas, he dashed off to the tram station and into the lockers. Ripping off his environmental suit, he found himself unable to suppress his grin any longer. Had anyone told him he’d be leaving his dead-end job as a car mechanic and would be joining some of the first people out of the Sol system, he would have told them off right then and there. There was no way he could’ve turned down the offer made to be among the leading mankind’s charge into the unknown. The invitation was also extended to his wife and child to build a second home away from an exhausted planet. It felt liberating like nothing else he’d experienced before.

* * *

**Lab 04a, SW quadrant of Delta Station**

Andrew Miller was among the main science crew leading Project Exodus. It was no secret by now that mankind’s impact on Earth’s environment and her various species was simply too big to ignore. There were too many mouths with too few resources on Earth and the various nations were starting to feel the brunt of it, both economically and socially. Nations were at each other’s throats and for once there was a collective will to find a solution. Out of desperation, all turned their gaze out to the stars, specifically to an anomaly in Mars’ orbit.

The nature to the wormhole’s formation was unclear and was a topic for further study. What was important was that probes sent through sent back a promising image: another system that was seemingly uninhabited and with its own array of planets and sun. Advertised as a last-ditch effort to see some continuity of humanity, the UN founded Project Exodus to spearhead the effort over. The primary objectives were to find possible energy alternatives to be sent homeward, explore the system, and devise a method of terraforming the planet to form another environment akin to Earth’s. In anticipation of such an accomplishment, various species and the means for artificial mass-reproduction were also sent over with the expedition. Initially, the project did receive some criticism as being a form of escape for a select few ‘VIPs’ while everyone else got to burn with the dying planet. The project’s detractors were hastily forgotten among the noise.

Early in the colony’s history, mining efforts had discovered a collection of new elements under the planet surface. Colloquially, the miners called it ‘dark matter’ due to its effect on gravitational forces. Without a proper name, the nickname quickly stuck with the lab-workers. For a while, the lab teams have been looking to apply this towards streamlined space-travel and energy production. Until now, Miller had been running through countless prototypes in the lab.

He sighed and adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose. "I hope the new vents are helping disperse heat and prevent overload?" the doctor asked with an accent like thick smoke.

His assistant Dr. Nicole Noel did have some experience in materials science but had a greater lean towards medical. "Looks to be. Readings indicate the refined dark-matter cores are much more stable now," his assistant said, showing the graphical displays on a touchscreen.

"Good. Get the prototype back to the lab for final refinements. We just might be able to start production by the end of the week. By the end of the year, we may very well cut down on travel times by seventy-five percent, or even safely expand to other planets in this region without severe cost to resources. Maybe we can start shifting units back to Earth in another month," Dr. Miller shrugged with confidence.

"Consider it done, doctor."

The assistant strolled off, leaving him to himself. Prior to his arrival in the new system, he’d been a physicist, worked at several R&D firms across the United States and South-East Asia. After the announcement of the Exodus Project, he instantly took the opportunity to jump ship. What he got was anything beyond what either his career or university would’ve had him anticipate. He was however admittedly disappointed that any signs of alien life – extinct or otherwise – had yet to be revealed.

* * *

**Spaceport, middle of Delta Station**

_‘Gateway, this is the UNC_ Icebreaker _, permission to dock at Delta Station. This is the UNC_ Discovery _, permission to dock.’_

‘ _Copy,_ Icebreaker _, this is Gateway, permission granted. Please proceed to docking bay 09. Be advised, a storm is approaching from the North West, get to the hanger quickly.’_

 _‘Understood, Eagle Nest. This is the_ Icebreaker _moving on.’_

The gates of the space-dock slowly opened with a loud, bellowing creak. The UNC _Icebreaker_ slowly hovered in backed by the deafening, mechanical whirl of the thrusters and its landing gear creaking out, gradually coming to rest on the docking bay floor.

_‘Thrusters powering down, landing gear set, all systems are still intact Gateway.’_

_‘Good. Shutting the airlock doors behind you. Wait till the dock is completely sealed and re-pressurized, then we'll start sending dock workers and engineers to assist with unloading cargo and perform any necessary fixes. Welcome to Midgard.’_

The planet the Project resided on, dubbed Midgard, was a mountainous, barren planet rich with resources, but completely unfit for living. The air was a cocktail of gases needed for living combined with gases that would melt a person’s lungs, any and all sources of water were subterranean, and the atmosphere was too thin to provide sufficient protection from the system’s sun. Furthermore, the frequent sandstorms made travel incredibly dangerous. The planet would be absolutely life-sustaining if it weren't for the incredibly frail atmosphere. It was standard operating procedure to keep all equipment, vehicles, and staff in-doors during large gusts, lest they be swept away or buried.

The hanger airlocks finally shut and pressurized, allowing docking personnel to enter. Wyatt temporarily left his post by the engines to look through the newly arrived settlers. His face lit up when he saw Josephine and their little Michael in her arms among the crowd. He dashed through and greeted the two with enthusiastic, open arms.

"Jose! God, it’s felt like years since I’ve seen you! And how are you Mikey? You’ve grown a bit you little tiger?" It had been a very long four months away from his family.

Josephine let out a happy chuckle. "Woah! Slow down, cowboy! We missed you too. How's working afar been treating you?" She'd been fearful at first, when Wyatt had first gotten the call to travel beyond. The couple just had Michael, and to be whisked away so soon caused her to worry about raising their child alone.

"Incredibly lonely, to say at most. The guys here are quite the cosmopolitan bunch, so life isn't boring. But now you two are here, it'll be exciting to think about us, together again, facing the frontier!"

"I'm sure it'll be fun," she chuckled.

"Look, I got to get back to work. Here’s our key and address, so get your luggage and make for the living blocks. The people here are incredibly friendly, so don't worry about getting lost. I'll catch up with you later." Wyatt gave one last caring glance before returning to the _Icebreaker._

* * *

**Eastern Border Mines, 18 miles NE of Delta Station**

It had been a couple hours since Wyatt had finished repairing the drill. Only half an hour ago, the mines had received a storm warning, and everyone was quitting early to avoid being cut off. Vincent was still working, almost with a zealous drive.

"Bernard, what do you think you're still doing up there?" Barry's raspy voice rang.

"I'm telling you, boss. Dark matter don't produce signals like this," Vincent grunted. To entice miners, the Project had instigated ‘bounties’ on pockets of minerals and dark matter providing bonuses to those who found something. He'd already reached the frequency at which it normally produces at close range, and it was still increasing.

"Orders came from HQ, sandstorm is coming through. Feel free to sleep in the mine bunks, but everyone else is shipping home."

"Yeah, well, guess who’s going home with pockets made fat? I see something on radar, and I want it."

"This is a nice change of pace for you, Bernard. Now if only you’d put this much backbone into this consistently." The fat man then turned to leave.

As soon as Barry was out of earshot, Vincent turned to himself, shut off his radio, and muttered, "That a sick, fat fuck. If that bastard so much as carried half his weight around here, we'd all be- _the hell_?"

Vincent's thoughts were suddenly interrupted as the drill finally broke into some unexplored chasm. He pulled the drill back a bit, climbed down, and walked into the new opening. He only took a few steps before sharply stopping. He looked around the open cave before him, staring with wide eyes, and a slack jaw.

“And look who just struck _gold_ …”

* * *

**Baseplate, Mars side of the wormhole**

_‘Watchtower, this is the UNC_ Guardian _. We have just dropped our load off at home, and we are heading back out with medical supplies and defense equipment to deliver at Delta. Are we clear to enter?’_

_‘_ Guardian _this is Watchtower, you are clear to enter. Enjoy the trip.’_

_‘Copy that, Watchtower. Continuing to the unknown.’_

The UNC _Guardian,_ a defense ship, exits orbit above Mars and proceeds to enter the wormhole, and begin its long journey to Midgard.

* * *

**Lab 04a, SW quadrant of Delta Station**

Miller brushed his hand through his oil black hair as he looked over the test results on the touchpad. “Wow. This has been a day. Maybe we…” He trailed off. He hadn’t realized how hungry he was. 

His assistant sharply nodded before walking off with the data pad. The trek down to the cafeteria could wait just a little longer, instead opting to take another long drag of coffee. It had been a good day and for a moment, he’d considered clocking out early and putting any other projects off to the side. The buzz of his pager shook his world of its balance.

"Talk to me. What’s the news?"

A gravely security officer answered, "Dr. Miller? Security here. We received a transmission from a mine on the Eastern Border. They were asking for you."

He gave a sheepish shrug, supposing relaxation could wait just a little longer. “Put ‘em through.” The first sound that oozed out of the speaker was that of Barry’s heavy breathing. Andrew had the unpleasant experiencing of encountering the prospector upon his initial arrival to the desolate planet and immediately developed a distaste for the man.

"Doctor? About time. One of the miners here just kept digging, found something strange. It… look, this is just something words can’t describe. Just get down here," Barry said with his usual, dismissive demeanor.

The doctor leaned forward in his seat, ignoring the hostile tone. "Did you at _least_ find something interesting? If I’m going to be ignoring the storm warning, I better be heading down there for a reason."

"It’s chromatic, glowing blue, monolithic, and weird as shit. Got a bunch of skeletons in the center too. It looks like something in your avenue of work. Just get your sterilized ass down here before one of these blows up."

Of all the people who had to discover anything significant, it had to be this waste of resources. "Was that so hard? I'll be right down and don't touch a thing. Asshole." He hung up and raced for the exit.

He nearly ran over his assistant on the way out. “Jesus! What’s the commotion about?”

"The miners at the southeast just found something. I want to see them back on campus personally. Now grab your coat."

“Okay! But I’ve still got a few more notes to finish filling out. I’ll-”

“There’s no time! Whatever it is, that ape Locke is down there with it!”

“Oh, piss. Be but a moment,” she groaned, tossing aside her notes.

* * *

**Eastern Border Mines, 18 miles NE of Delta Station**

After Vincent found the chasm, many miners begrudgingly returned to reinforce the mine, insert more lighting, and prepare to excavate the recent find. Miller entered the mine with security in tow, questions already shooting from his mouth like angry wasps from a hive. The prospect of the find left him elated above anything else.

The mouth of the cavern opened to show overlapping walls of sediment and a small circle of half a dozen metallic, pulsating blue pillars with ornate inscriptions along the side, feeling a deep burning sense of awe. They looked like time capsules, having waited some unknown amount of time to be dug up years later. He got on a knee to look closer at the bodies. It was a pile of exoskeletons, almost resembling enlarged ants. There was a tinge of hesitation in his approach. He knew he should move the bodies to the lab for analysis first before prying at the bodies. No doubt Dr. Noel would have a field day.

His attention had been so preoccupied on what lay before him that he hadn’t noticed the pillars had taken on a yellow hue and were glowing brighter.

* * *

**Gateway, overlooking the center of Delta Station**

_‘The storm looks to be passing. The eye just passed right over us.’_

_‘Gateway, we’ve got a visual anomaly towards the southwest, can you confirm?’_

_Some of the staff in the tower moved to look. It was barely visible through the clouds, but it shown as the brightest thing outside. The yellow hue continued to emanate outward from the southeast mine entrance. ‘Can confirm. Can you identify?’_

_‘No sir. Looks-’_

The radio chatter cut the sphere of yellow energy washed over the station in a large tidal wave, causing the power to drop.

* * *

**Apartment Blocks, NE quadrant of Delta Station**

Wyatt came stumbling into his apartment, exhausted and worn from the day's work. He huffed a few breaths before calling out. "Jose? You home?"

She peaked out from the hallway. "Oh, Wyatt! Just getting settled in. Busy day?"

"Yeah! It's just how life is here," he replied to reassure her. "I'm more worried about you. Did you get everything moved in without a hitch? Hopefully nothing broke during the trip?"

"Nothing at all. We packed pretty light, so-” The room shown bright yellow before fading to complete darkness.

Wyatt groaned, searching the kitchen for his emergency flashlight. "What the hell? They just worked on the generator this morning. What’s the deal?"

* * *

**UNC Guardian, midway through the wormhole, en route to Midgard**

The long-range communications operator at the bridge was glaring at her equipment with concern. She had repeatedly haled the control tower at Delta Station to no avail. The ship telecommunications array had passed inspection before leaving Earth, so whatever the issue may be was on the recipient end. “Diagnostics?”

"We’re fine, ma’am. Whatever’s going wrong is on their end."

The captain sighed. “Fine time for a communications blackout. What else has gone wrong?” The ship made a lurch. Everyone on the bridge could feel the sudden deceleration. They were still several hours out from their destination. Something was wrong. “Stirep, what just happened?”

“We’ve just been yanked out of the tunnel, ma’am. Everything else is fine.”

The captain turned to the various viewports looking for anything that might’ve resembled their destination or at least a planetary body. “Get me eyes. Where are we?” Panic continued to dig in as the maps displayed onscreen.

* * *

**Eastern Border Mines, 18 miles NE of Delta Station**

The mine lights turned back on, and everyone was left unharmed by the burst of energy. Surprisingly, the artifacts were still intact and returned to their blue glow. Everyone looked around, still stunned by what just happened mere seconds ago. Andrew strolled through the crowd, looking for any indication as to what the burst of energy might have changed. The security chief’s radio buzzed off. _‘_ _This is Gateway to the southeast mine, anyone still down there?’_

“Just one moment. Doctor, over here.” He beckoned for Andrew to walk over.

“We’re fine. What happened?”

_‘We’ve got good news and bad news. We’ve had power fluctuations across the compound, but everything is still fine.’_

He gave a premature exhale of relief. “At least we won’t starve of oxygen deprivation in the next hour. What’s the bad news?”

_‘I’ve checked communications with the next ship. Neither they nor Earth are responding, and the wormhole has completely closed. It’s not showing up on any frequency. Whatever you did down there, you might want to get that back open.’_

Andrew took a moment to let that sink in. The cold realization stung worse than anything else. What brought his more immediate attention was the bustling crowds of workers in his immediate vicinity. Just how was he supposed to break the news without things worsening?


	2. By Our Lonesome

_All the adults who were born on Earth typically avoided discussing the wormhole’s disappearance. It wasn’t out of hatred for the old homeworld, but out of discomfort. For as damaged as Earth had become, there was some vague gravitational pull for those who lived on it. Call it nostalgia or whatever. Dad claims it also made everyone upset after it vanished. He didn’t like talking much about that either._

* * *

**Nov 21, 2052**

**Lab 04a, SW quadrant of Delta Station**

Miller had returned to his typical overlooking position in the lab, staring intently at the pillars they had discovered. By now, it was no secret that the wormhole was gone. Though partially obscured by the dusty atmosphere, it was still a prominent image in the Midgard night sky. Its disappearance meant there would be no continuous stream of vital resources from Earth; namely oxygen. Food wouldn’t be a problem. Along with well over a year’s worth of dried nonperishables, they easily had the capacity to start installing massive farms using GMOs to hold everyone over. Air was another issue in its entirety.

It took the other members of the science staff a few days to start prying into the pillar’s ancient secrets. The pillars opened similarly to a filing cabinet, containing cylindrical scrolls that unrolled into something akin to a touchpad, albeit much more flexible. Each one was either a schematic or notes in some ancient tongue. From what little they could translate, the scrolls were notes describing environmental manipulation and medical implants. The base of each one was weighed down by an unrecognized hunk of burnt out machinery laced with the dark matter they had been digging up. Unfortunately, the last burst of energy had burnt out these mechanisms for all they were worth, meaning there would be no exploration of their functions or any means of reopening the path home.

The fossilized remains were a different story. The exoskeletons they found contained very little inside of their rocky exteriors. Almost all the internal organs had long since turned to dust and vanished with their civilization except for a handful of hard glands found in what was left of the torso. Initially, they looked and felt no different from stones found on the bottom of a riverbed. Taking a saw to the exterior, the lab quickly discovered the exterior was only a thin, robust membrane. The interior was an unrecognizable silvery gel. Closer observation showed the silver paste to be made up of cells of metallic and mechanical composition. From what they notes discerned, they could possibly manipulate biological function with proper use and slow the rate of DNA decay by upwards of a third.

Dr. Noel strolled up to his side with concern etched into her face like a monument in a mountainside. She knew his question before it left his lips. “What’s the story?”

"From our own prototypes and what we’ve learned from the ancient scrolls, we’ll be able to devise some proper terraforming equipment. It’ll take half a century for the atmosphere to begin even resembling Earth’s, but we’ll start being able to live outside with minimal protection in the span of fifteen years. Given our current resource intake and what materials we have in store maintain, it will take us two months from now to establish proper terraforming equipment and augment our greenhouses and aquaponics to complement our air filtration system. After that, it’ll take another six months to see our oxygen situation reach a sustainable point." Noel pursed her lips and glanced back at the doctor.

Andrew only let out a quiet sigh. "Eight months is not good enough. As you well know, we only have enough air reserves to last everyone for _five_ months. We’ll be choking on our own fumes long before we get it done."

"There is a positive side,” she started cautiously. “From our recent findings based on the ancient notes, we could use those nanomachines we dug up from the alien carcasses to rework components of the miner’s lungs, making them a bit more welcoming of the planet’s air composition. It would siphon off all the gases necessary for us to breath while exhaling the harmful gases with minimal effort. Workers would still need basic filtration for the dust storms and like, but it’s a matter of switching from enviro-suits to gasmasks."

It was a solution, but an uneasy one. Asking almost five million people to make the trip out to another system was already one thing. Asking them to extend their trust to accepting bodily modifications in the name of self-preservation with none of the rewards from the initial trip was a hurdle too far. “That’s asking for more than we should.”

“There are no other alternatives. We’ve been crunching the math for the past few hours and there are only a few solutions on the table. If we implement this rewrite protocol accordingly, we can hold out long enough to see that everyone survives.”

“How many others are onboard with this plan?”

“Three-fifths, Dr. Miller. You’re in the minority.”

“And so I am.”

* * *

**Nov 22, 2052**

**Apartment 207, Block 5, Apartment Blocks, NE quadrant of Delta Station**

Wyatt and Josephine were sitting alone together in their apartment at the dining room table in their small apartment. The two were dead silent, enraptured in their own thoughts. The two had just been reunited, and time already felt so fleeting. The facility administration in conjunction with the laboratory staff had announced the plan to fast-forward the initialization of experimental terraforming procedures, the expansion of the greenhouse and aquaponics facilities, and equip much of the external workforce with respirators developed from the salvaged alien tech found in the mines a few days prior.

Being on the receiving end of such an operation, Wyatt was less than comfortable with the notion of receiving any sort of extra injections, especially directly applied to any internal organs. Josephine was more receptive of the idea because of his previous smoking habit. He’d completely quit prior to his departure from Earth, but it would still improve his health and wellbeing. He shakily sighed, “Why do you want me to go through with this?”

“They said it wouldn’t hurt,” she scoffed back.

“That’s what the doc always says. Now I know they’re not gonna try and pull some bullshit with medical costs because it’s a moot effort now, but this… Jesus, Jose. It scares me.”

“Then what do you want to hear?”

“That you’re doing this for _Mathew._ ”

He’d been winding up for a counterargument but hadn’t anticipated such an answer. “Alright. Doing this for Mathew.”

* * *

**Eastern Border Mines, 18 miles NE of Delta Station**

The mines Vincent was incredibly distracted that morning. The announcements made by administration that morning wasn’t exactly going over well with the workforce. The contracts they’d signed prior to their arrival made no such addresses of these changes. Vincent didn’t care. The swap from enviro-suits would be a welcome change, however. The orange suits had a tendency of being stuffy and hard to see out of. All that said, he couldn’t help but agree with the notion that this policy was beyond what was covered by the contract.

Locke, like the Neanderthal he was, naturally led the camp against the implementation. For several minutes now, he’d been arguing with another prospector. “Has it occurred to you those eggheads are lying? They’re hoggin the air! I haven’t heard a lick about what implants _they’re_ getting. Maybe they’re getting special mind-beams that keep us docile like dogs.”

The other prospector’s waistline was inversely proportional to Locke’s and his voice was ripe with sarcasm. "Right. And the 5G towers cause cancer. I’ve got my own problems with the brass, Locke, but we were all there when those alien rocks shut down the wormhole. They’re desperate and trying to put out solutions and I sure as shit don’t hear you touting any answers to our predicament."

The former dropped any pretense of civility and slammed his fat fist into the other man’s side, causing him to collapse on the ground. After a few kicks with the heel of his boot, other workers rushed to both and dragged each other away. 

Vincent barely cast a look over his shoulder before returning to work. It was bad enough they were now officially working against the clock. They last thing they needed was the workforce at its own throat instead of working towards a proper fix. And he was not looking forward to when this all inevitably boiled over.

* * *

**Station Security Office, SE quadrant of Delta Station**

“Major, I appreciate the enthusiasm you’re displaying towards my work, but can you at least put aside the prospects of military applications until _after_ we’ve fully adapted the crew and station to our new circumstances?” Andrew huffed, glaring indignantly at Grigori.

The doctor put up with the major as a lesser of two evils. Grigori Morozov was former Russian military and a warmonger at that. Prior to joining Project Exodus, he’d left and eventually found a contract for the Project’s security force. Why they would accept such a belligerent man was beyond him. “I agree we should put arms development until after such, but just think of what I’m proposing. Prior to the wormhole collapsing, I had scheduled a large arms shipment to complement our current security force. It never made it through, and I’ve got my eyes on the future. I thought you would too.”

“Do you lead such an empty existence that small arms design is all you preoccupy your thoughts with? Ships, yes, but guns and cannons are not at the forefront of what’s possible here.”

“It will bring peace of mind to the people aboard this station. It’s an inevitable question to be posed that is only postponed by the current limits of our scope. And I doubt our first confrontation will be anything but amicable given our own history and what we’ve come to expect.”

The security station receptionist buzzed in moments later. _‘_ _Major? You have a visitor on your way, over.’_

It was to Miller’s relief the radio interrupted the conversation. Grigori reached to answer. "Who is it, sergeant?"

_‘It's Barry Locke. He made a stir down at the mines and was sent your way. Don’t worry, he’s being accompanied by other guards as well.’_

The security chief huffed. “Thank you. I’ll keep him overnight until he clears his head.”

Miller rolled his eyes. “It just never ends, does it?”

The fat man was brought in by two officers at his flank with his hands behind his back. With a grunt, he straightened up and said, “Major… and doctor, I would like to pose a protest.”

“Speak. Just get it out, prospector.”

“We’re not your lab rats! We’re not putting up with your syringes and scalpels and alien tech! And you can’t keep us stuck on this rock!”

“Both administration and the scientific teams have laid out the truth in full. If you can’t remember, you can review the message they sent out _after_ you’ve spent the night cooling off.”

_Barry was subsequently escorted to the cells at the back of the station. Andrew let out an exasperated sigh before making his way back to the door. “I’ll be working late again. We’re finalizing the nanite treatment procedure. I’ll let you know all about it tomorrow morning.”_

* * *

**Medical Facility, Civilian Sector, NE quadrant of Delta Station**

Nicole was presenting to the various mechanical and mining personnel in an emptied medical theater with a projection. Nanites would be set to make certain changes in advance prior to the operation. After numbing the point of application, the nanites would be injected and overwrite the existing tissue and apply changes accordingly. In short, the nanites functioned equivalently to stem cells with the ability to take restructure themselves to take the place of dead and dying cells before them. The imagery was unnerving, but it did put some of the concerns the crew had to rest.

After wrapping up the presentation and sending additional information to the workers, she met Andrew just outside of the operating theater. “How was the reception?”

“Better than what we could’ve expected, actually. Looking over footage of the attendees, they did receive the explanation much better than when we initially announced this yesterday.”

“I was hung up on the security chief again. How are the nanite glands coming along?” The labs had begun tinkering further with the nanites collected from the alien corpse. They were limited in inventory, but Noel theorized on the use of saliva gland tissue to develop a ‘natural’ factory for nanite production. She then pulled a dozen growth jars from storage to grow the new tissue cores suspended I a nutrient solution. “Impressive. They’ve grown considerably since yesterday,” he hummed, peering into the jars.

The silvery sacks were kidney shaped and no bigger than what they found in the exoskeletons and they grew on stalks like seaweed. “We continued the work on that shaping algorithm we started this morning. It’s a bit rough, but it’s still worth a look.” She took a touchpad left on the lab counter and tapped a few keys before pointing specifically at one of the jars. It began oozing its contents into the solution like ink from a sack.

While he did have his concerns, the cloud of silver suddenly stopped expanding outward and compacted on itself to form a perfect octahedron. He blinked for a moment, hardly believing his eyes. “What?”

“It’s certainly more than we anticipated. The surface of this shape is incredibly sturdy, and the others did take one out of the solution to take turns trying to smash it. However, it does take up a large amount of energy to pull something like this off and it can only hold this shape for so long given the resources we’ve provided.”

“I’ll need to have closer look at the structure. As the medical professional between the two of us, what do you think about the possible biological applications of this?”

“Assuming the human body doesn’t outright reject this, we could see significant changes to human biology as we know it. Maybe it would complement our immune systems. There’s no reason to assume this would be harmful to human anatomy.”

“When will we make the jump to human trials?”

“Our animal stock is limited, so we’ve started drawing straws to see who does go first in case this really does backfire. We’ve selected a couple dozen science personnel with various genetic backgrounds to accept the first few doses and make any other adjustments accordingly.”

“You seem to be rather enthusiastic playing with fire.”

“We’ve made our decision, Dr. Miller. Soon enough, the station will too.”

“I'm just worried we're making decisions a little too soon. Not that we have much choice, but it's still something to worry about.”


	3. The Cracks Show

Chapter 3: The Cracks Show

_Dad and security chief Grigori were arguing again today. I didn’t get to hear much before he put me in another room. I could still hear them though. He doesn’t like the security chief training us, saying we’re too young. I don’t know why. He’s harsh, but nice. When I asked dad why he doesn’t like Grigori, he just told me it wasn’t important and that I should be worrying more about my studies._

* * *

**Nov 25, 2052**

**Station Security Office, SE quadrant of Delta Station**

Grigori was already popping a dose from probably his last stash of over-the-counter painkillers he’d get for the rest of his life. The science crew had done their job to explain procedures going forward, but it didn’t quell the ever-loudening opinions of Barry and his relatively sizeable circle of purist coworkers. Not that he didn’t sympathize with their beliefs, but he hated how they made a ruckus about it. Especially with the increasing vandalism outside of the labs and admin.

He wanted to shove them out the door with minimal supplies to wander the outside wasteland until they perished. Dr. Miller disagreed with the notion in favor of continuing to attempt negotiation. It irritated him how devote the doctor was to the pacifist route. The doctor was a little too scared of a little bloodshed and confronting the situation in its entirety. If there’s a few ducklings leaving the pack to pick at some gum stuck to the road, there’s no point going back for them only to get run over by an oncoming truck. No point in being idealistic.

“Sir, there’s a crowd gathering outside of admin… again. What’s your orders?”

He washed down the medicine with a glass of water. “Round up everyone. We’re locking down admin. I want us down there in full armor and rifles, but only a couple squad’s worth.”

“But what about Dr. Miller’s-”

“Screw Miller. I appreciate his devotion but he’s letting it obscure his view of what needs to be done. Those agitators are a threat to this whole station. Now load up. I don’t want them getting any ideas.”

* * *

**Administrative Sector, NE quadrant of Delta Station**

Wyatt’s ribcage continued to itch the day after the operation. He woke to the sight of a doctor sanitizing the point of insertion and putting bandage over the pin-sized hole. Afterwards, he didn’t feel all too different aside from his breathing. His lungs felt lighter and he felt like he could take deeper breaths. Talking to the doctors afterward, they discussed the modular nature of the dose he received and what could be changed later when upgrades started to roll around. Not that he had any intentions to get anything besides the bare minimum.

He had Mathew dropped off at a daycare while he and Jose headed down to admin with a large crowd of the other technicians who’d gotten onboard with the biomodifications. They were distributing the reserves of gasmasks that were brought to the station in the eventuality that terraforming Midgard would be far along enough for people to switch from enviro-suits. Each recipient would also receive a patch kit in case the visor was damaged, several filter replacements, and instructions on how to clean each them. “Look, Jose, I’ve been holding out on your apology for too long and I should at least spit somethin’ out.”

She gave a glance to the side away from him. “It’s been a hectic first week here. There’s no reason to.”

“No, I’m serious. I was letting the guff that Barry and the others were spewing that this was some huge betrayal. It was stupid of me to buy into their hype and it’s now readily apparent that Barry and his cronies can go soak their collective heads.”

“That’s not going to solve anything, Wyatt.”

“I don’t see how else this could end. They ain’t backin’ down, the security chief is already donning warpaint, and it’s not like they can all jump on the next dozen ships back to Earth and forfeit their contracts. They stick with it or they can stick it to the elements.”

“You don’t think the chief is gonna leave them out there with minimal equipment, is he?”

“Barry’s crew have been starting fights everywhere. I’m not going to miss them one bit.”

“Then why are we here? They were crowding the outside plaza area. There has to be at least a several thousands of them out there right now.”

“We won’t be here for much longer and we’re not going to dawdle.” They’d finally reached the front of the line. As promised, Wyatt was issued a gasmask, half a dozen filters, a packet of gray putty, and a small instruction booklet. “There. Now we go pick up Mathew and lock ourselves in the apartment. We can move the fridge in front of the door for the night and watch a movie or something. This’ll be all over soon.”

“I hope so.” The two found themselves swiftly disappointed by the sizeable crowd of people who filled out the front lobby of admin. The room was completely full, and they couldn’t even step foot out of the adjoining hallway. “What’s going on?” she asked.

“More of those protestors outside. They’re completely against the outside wall now,” a bystander replied. “They’ve completely blocked off the front doors. We can’t get out.”

“Shouldn’t we back away from the doors then?” Wyatt returned. “We really shouldn’t be baiting them like this.”

“The security chief is upstairs with a large group of the station security with him. He’s currently talking it over with admin. They’ll-” Whatever he said next was barely audible over the sound of shattering glass, followed by the rambunctious roar of screams.

* * *

**Elsewhere in the Administrative Sector**

“And what’s your solution then?” Grigori was in the central committee conference room. His men were awaiting him in the hallways just outside. He’d brought a hundred and fifty other officers with him and had them stationed throughout the building, but it barely felt like enough to contend with the literal thousands waiting just outside. They’d run out of ammo first. Then it would regress back to throwing fists and whatever hardware they could find.

“Have we already digressed to the point we’re considering exiling troublemakers, Major Morozov?” Miller spat. The conversation with admin had quickly devolved into a duel between the two figureheads, causing the administrative officers to cast nervous glances back and forth. “Besides, we don’t need everyone to equip the nanite treatment. We could still give that same treatment to other people around the station. It’s not a given that they take it.”

“But those will mostly be people who are still using the station’s oxygen reserves.”

“He does have a point,” one of the administrators finally interrupted. “It’s clear that there are rising cases of infighting among the miners. We’ll need more security staff out there to maintain the situation and more of them will need the hardware for it too.”

“And what of the mechanical and prospecting staff that still make outlandish demands?” Grigori reminded. “We’ve yet to make any bit of goodwill with that group. They’re currently outside in-mass and they haven’t left for the past several hours. I don’t see why-” Gunshots echoed from up the hallway, followed by the cry of several thousand voices. “Oh shit! Don’t leave and stay hidden!” He rushed out into the hallway, only to find that Miller had followed close behind. “Doctor, just stay in there. You’ll be safer.”

“I’ve got science team members down below helping with gasmask distribution. I’ve got to get them to safety!” Andrew dashed off before he could stop him.

“Dammit! We’re spread too thin as is.” Pointing to the guards at the door, he ordered, “You four stay here. No one gets in. Everyone else on me.” His voice shook as more orders were passed over the radio. “All stations, administration is under attack. There are admin and prospectors in danger. Weapons free and shoot to kill.”

He could still hear small arms fire as they ran to the front lobby. It was at least promising that the security officers stationed close to the entrance were still holding out. When they arrived, they found a couple of privates holding the intersection between hallways. One had taken a severe blow and was barely propping himself up against the wall while the other continued to burn through magazine after magazine. “Private, give me a sitrep.”

“They trampled most of the poor souls lining the outside door on the way in. They got into a bit of a melee after that and started pouring into the station. Me and the boys let loose and I’m down to my last mag, but there are still more that have scurried into other parts of admin.”

Grigori cursed under his breath. “This is the last straw. First and Second Platoons are on me as we clear out the station. I want the rest to remain at the front to continue killing the rest.”

The other private stammered, “Shouldn’t we try to apprehend them, sir?”

“We’ve been apprehending members of this mob to no effect all week, private. They cannot be reasoned with and they’re proactively killing other staff as we speak. We do not have the capacity to keep this many people locked up and have them subsequently disciplined. They no longer have a place on this station. Wipe them out. You have your orders, now let’s move.”

He hustled inside making his way to where the science teams were distributing the gasmasks. The major didn’t like Andrew, but his team’s survival was still paramount if they wanted the rest of the station to continue surviving. It was only the first floor and the entire area was already a mess. There was a menagerie of bodies strewn about and hallways painted in bright crimson. There weren’t any dead science team members in sight, but that wasn’t enough to address his fears.

Then there was the barely audible sound of a scuffle up ahead. In a mad dash, he found the counter where the prospectors were retrieving gasmasks from. Andrew fell into view with a gash along the side of his forehead. Barry stumbled into view with a mining utensil in his hand. The prospector was doused in more crimson than any of the hallways he’d seen at that point and there was a rabid expression etched into his face. “I’ve had it up to here with you, egghead! Say-”

“That’s enough, Locke,” Grigori announced, leveling his rifle.

The prospector turned and gave this half-attentive look in his direction. Then his mouth turned into a snarl. “You Orwellian ba-”

He wasn’t allowed to finish. Grigori put a round clean through his head, spraying another visceral dash of blood on the cabinets behind him. Even as the corpse fell, he dumped a good half of his magazine into the corpse, more out of irritation than necessity.

Miller didn’t give him a friendly glance either. He was barring his teeth and pressing a hand against the injury on his head. A few seconds later, his assistant ran in with a first-aid kit under her arm. “Dropping all pretense of civility, huh?”

“You’re welcome.” The major moved on without another word.

* * *

**Nov 30, 2052**

**Medical Facility, Civilian Sector**

It had been a bloody day and there was no sign it was getting better just yet. The final death toll came up a little over sixty thousand, the vast majority of which were the assailants on the administrative sector. However, twenty thousand prospectors, engineers, and administrate staff had also died as well. Grigori finally had pretense to let loose security on the little insurgency. They would continue to impose a threat on the station he nor admin could afford to continuously allow to exist.

As far as the major could tell, they’d forfeit their right to continue living on the station. The existential threats they were facing were clear for all to see and they believed they were in the right to plummet the station into further chaos because they felt they were being undone. And it was that mindset that let another twenty thousand more die than would’ve been necessary. It was a necessary move and he wasn’t going to waste his breath trying to justify it.

However, for once, Miller didn’t put up much of a fight. He didn’t approve of his orders, but he didn’t feel like putting up the effort while he was bedridden. “It’s done, doctor. Nothing you say is going to change how forty thousand technicians and prospectors besieged admin. If you really feel like getting any closure, take it up with their surviving families.”

“I get that. There’s no point wishing that this could’ve ended differently,” Miller grumbled. Losing debates left a certain temporary bitterness about them. Sure, it’s indicative that he’d failed to back up his arguments fully, but the sensation would quickly wear off under the pretense that the argument was small and insignificant enough that no harm was done and he could readjust his approach the next time. This felt more like a steam burn. It felt deeper because of the greater implications of such a catastrophic failure in maintaining crew cohesion. Since he’d arrived in the hospital, he’d been playing out more scenarios than he could remember as to how the cards could’ve fallen differently. Locke wouldn’t have changed his mind, but maybe there could’ve been something done so his camp ended up being much smaller than it came out to be. No use crying over spilled milk.

Dr. Noel strolled up from tending to other patients. “This still leaves us with a significant problem. While the deaths only make up one hundredth of the station’s total population, that’s a large portion of the workforce to suddenly disappear in one day. Bringing in the necessary supplies for the terraformers will slow down noticeably, but the new air reserve distribution will easily compensate, meaning that the goalposts of when we can expect a livable environment have moved marginally. However, I do have a greater concern going forward.”

“What could be worse than the concern of running out of air?” Andrew pressed.

“It simply a hypothesis at this point, but I do have some concerns about reproduction in this following generation. Our living situation will still be precarious over the next generation and a half. While people have brought over their families for this expedition, the sudden revelation of our newfound isolation in conjunction with the outlook that social structure is weaker than anticipated could cause people want to procreate less. We’re looking at the possibility of a generational gap. It won’t be too big, but it’s still a downward trend in population growth and as we expand further across Midgard and this system, we’re still in danger of dying out from having too few people.”

“Alright, what’s the pitch? You’re clearly going somewhere with this, Nicole.”

“I had my mind on a two-fold opportunity. The nanites we’ve been applying to our workforce could become a natural occurrence within our biology in a couple of generations’ time. I want to see the full biological effect that this technology on human anatomy. If this does become part of human anatomy, then it’s important we come to understand this earlier before we get to that point. On top of that, this could help us with this generational gap I had previously mentioned and keep population growth stable.”

Morozov nodded in agreement. What he thought of this wasn’t clear, though Miller pessimistically suspected what ideas the major already had in mind. “Yeah, yeah… I think this is all sound logic. And what of you, Dr. Miller?”

Andrew started with a surrendering shrug. He still believed he carried the logical opinion, but it was clear he was long-since outnumbered. At the current rate of events, there was no way he could continue to convince administration that there was any other course of action. “Can it be done?”

“We still have more of those growth containers to use and we brought numerous frozen egg cells in anticipation of a circumstance like this. I was thinking of splicing DNA from willing donors to inject into the eggs; probably from groups other than the technicians and prospecting work force.”

“I know you have your doubts, Dr. Miller. We don’t know what will come of this, but after today, I can strongly say only good can come from any of this.”


	4. First Steps

_I attended grade school with most of the other kids aboard the station, but I went to the science labs afterwards. Dad told me it was because I was special and told me not to worry if I didn’t understand. Last weekend, I heard Major Grigori arguing back and forth with dad again. This time, they were talking about teaching me to fight. “If he’s old enough to get into advanced math, he’s old enough to start learning to shoot.” Then dad forced him out of the lab. It’s the angriest I’ve ever seen him._

* * *

**March 07, 2053**

**Lab 08b, SW quadrant of Delta Station**

Dr. Noel had been up early that morning looking at the growth jars. It did help significantly to distract from many of the changes occurring across the station. After the incident towards the end of the year before, what could be considered a government on the station had undergone a significant restructuring. Since they now existed separate from any other governing Earth bodies, Project Exodus was hastily reorganized into the Terran Commonwealth. As basic as the name was, it was still important to recognize the indirect affiliation with Earth; or rather what was assumedly left of it.

In the span of the entirety of December, the administration offices had been busy establishing new protocols for laws, positions in administration, and establishing what would eventually become the democratic process. November was still seared into the recent memories of all onboard and it was a collective effort to avoid making similar mistakes. Station security was rebranded as the acting military, albeit cautiously in its approach to grow the ranks. Furthermore, Grigori was looking to make further use of any tech scraped from the ancient aliens and dark matter drives to see further advancement of equipment for the station and armed forces.

Miller entered the lab a few minutes later nursing a cup of coffee. “Dr. Noel, good to see you this morning. How are they coming along?”

“Likewise, Dr. Miller. The nanite have bonded seamlessly with the embryos and by the looks of things have formed glands like what we saw in the earlier tissue experiments,” she explained before turning to look at him. “You can’t keep arguing with Morozov like this.”

“That obvious?”

“You should save your strength for our own work, not his. Besides, his requests for a dark-energy-powered rifle is already in development.”

“It’s not the rifles this time. And I wasn’t upset when he initially proposed that. He’s had his eyes on the children from these jars.”

That got her attention. “What for?”

“Says he wants them for his ranks. Only a hundred and for a multitude of roles.”

“That still leaves us with four hundred others who will see a normal civilian life.”

“What is Morozov doing that makes you more inclined to agree with him, anyways?”

The two began a walk along the other rows of jars. “Andrew, you have to understand. I stand by your word, but I’ve quickly come to believe that the major is much more prepared to roll out proper solutions than you are. No offense, we and the rest of the science team are the hands that bring about the needed changes. We don’t set policies and guidelines, we set broken bones and the research and development into swing.”

“But it takes a more apt viewpoint to bring the necessary changes into perspective.”

“And what do you have to say about your own?”

“I… fine, whatever. Let’s just get back on track with talking about the fetuses.”

She looked back at her touchpad. “Another interesting note is the neurological development occurring in these jars. Development time is otherwise consistent with human growth cycle except for the nervous system, which developed two-fold compared to how it normally does.”

“And mutations?”

“I can’t say at this point. Five hundred isn’t a big enough sample size to determine how it would either exacerbate or repair the effects of something like Downes Syndrome.”

“Hold on a sec,” he interrupted. “What’s that towards the center of this lab?”

The two stopped to inspect. The device was roughly the size of a water cooler and emanated a blue-purple glow. “That’s the lab’s temporary power source. As we make the switch to dark matter power sources, we’re unhooking as many connections as we can to the station power plant so that it can also make the transition.”

“When did we bring this in?”

“A couple weeks ago.”

He rubbed his eyes, wondering how he missed such a crucial detail. “Are you sure it’s safe to leave a room full of developing children next to exposed dark matter?”

“We already determined that the energy put off by the material is non-carcinogenic in nature.”

“We haven’t determined if there are any side effects on developing minds similar to alcohol or tobacco.”

“Either way, we can’t move that right now and we can’t know if there are any effects on developing children until we see the results.”

“Fine. Hopefully, nothing comes of it.”

* * *

**Sept 15, 2053**

**Hospital, NE quadrant of Delta Station**

They’d begun to pull some of the fully developed children out of the jars. Andrew had donated to a child grown in the lab with the dark matter generator and he wanted to check if what came out wasn’t malformed by exposure to the foreign element. The other lab technicians had started carting off the other infants to the hospital for proper care, but he decided to hang back a little longer to have a proper look. Perhaps it was because this child was eventually going to look like himself that he’d inadvertently developed some sense of care for him. He may have shown active distaste to the proposal of these special children and didn’t have a partner with which to cherish the development of such children, but they there was no shortage of ethical and social issues surrounding leaving these children on their own accord.

He ultimately decided to take on the child as his own. It wasn’t a burden he was particularly ready to take on. He hadn’t the faintest idea how to raise a child, much less what he was to name him. Nicole knocked on the door behind him. “We’ve moved all the others to the hospital, and we’re arranging their parents. You coming with us?”

“Of course. Just looking over one of them.”

“You’ve been holding onto that one for a while.”

“He’s based off me and I was considering bringing him up as my own.”

She nodded approvingly. “That shouldn’t be too hard to arrange. Any ideas for names?”

“No,” he grunted in disappointment. “And I’m waiting for a good hint.”

“The family tree is always a good start.”

He briefly thought back to some of the many conversations he had with his grandparents back on Earth about their family history. His grandfather had mentioned how his own grandfather had been a gun runner in Ireland back in the days of the IRA before jumping ship to the United States. It’d been a fascinating knowing how his family had contributed in such a tumultuous time in history. Looking back to the child in-hand, there was no knowing what this person would grow up to be, but he could only hope to guide him on a more benevolent path. Someone who would lend a helping hand. “Terrence. His name is Terrence Miller.”

* * *

**Oct 10, 2059**

**Andrew’s Apartment, Civilian Sector of the Original Base**

He returned to find Terrence deep in his homework at the dinner table. In the mornings he would walk the child to school and continued to the labs from there. On Fridays, Terrence would come down to the lab. Since it was a common practice among the cloned children, he didn’t feel isolated as a result. Unlike natural-born children, the cloned children did develop patches of exposed muscle along their limbs and sides like a body display of human anatomy. The muscle composure was more of a metallic coloration and the sensation provided by the patches of exposed tissue felt akin to regular skin rather than the raw, painful sensation of touching unprotected sensation.

It was more resilient than muscle too and in conjunction with reinforced bone tissue allowed the children to carry a fair bit more than their own weight. Compared to children of normal parents who only just had nanites introduced to their genetics, the bodily restructuring was comparatively more advanced. The reported changes also sent Morozov over the moon as expected. “Hello, Terrence.”

Terry paused to look up from his work. “Hey dad! How was work?”

“Fine. How was class.”

“Math was fun. History is still boring.”

Andrew turned his head so Terrence couldn’t see him roll his eyes. “History is important. It shows us how things came to be and how they will affect the future.” The doctor continued down the hall to hang up his coat in the closet. “It’s good for predicting how people will act, too. It-” He heard the sudden crack of metal and material echo from the other room. “Terrence?”

He shoved his coat back in and cautiously wandered back into the living room area. The dining room table and chairs had been thrown across the room in all directions. The table had connected with the wall so hard it snapped in half. Terrence was waddling in circles batting at his own arms like he’d suddenly caught fire. The child’s arms were coated in a light glow blue that flowed like the gas-lit fire on a stove. The wisps of energy suddenly dissipated just as he looked up at him. “Dad! I’m sorry! I didn’t-”

“Shhh… it’s alright. Accidents… happen.” He hesitated to move to Terrence’s side, anticipating this sudden phenomenon may reappear and result in further harm to himself. “Just what happened?”

“I-I don’t know! My arms just caught fire and I accidentally threw the table across the room! I didn’t mean to!”

“Relax, relax. Tomorrow’s Friday. We can look into this after school.”

* * *

**Jan 23, 2060**

**School front hall, Civilian Sector of the Original Base**

Miller and one of the teachers were overlooking the school entrance from a balcony above. Class was out for the day and he watched Terrence leave for martial arts class provided by Grigori and some of the other military crew. As he left through the door, he was showing off to one of his friends his ability to generate an orb of energy in the palm of his hand. The station had begun to expand across the region on Midgard and there were more civilian sectors dotting the gradually changing terrain, but Terrence attended the school at the original compound due to its proximity with the lab. “How is he doing?”

“He’s very sharp for a child. All the cloned children are progressing at least a few grades ahead of their natural-born counterparts. It is developing some troubling friend circles and Terrence is part of one, though.”

The doctor looked at the teacher with concern. “What’s that?”

“The natural-born students quickly took note last year and started forming friend groups encircled around the cloned children due to their accelerated mental development for classwork purposes. It does create a pegging order among the natural-born children, but it’s not as problematic as I made it sound.”

“Alright. What is he excelling in?” He brushed his graying beard as they turned to walk down the hallway.

“Math, mostly. I did put him in some of the early-level physics courses per your request, but he seems to be more interested in chemistry and health.”

An interesting observation. It was probably a bit of Nicole rubbing off on the young man. And becoming a doctor would still be a great outcome for Terrence. But he was still concerned for the child either way. Ever since Terrence’s mystery powers manifested, other cases among consistent with the children born from the lab with the dark energy generator developed similar abilities, with Terrence being among the group with high gradients of such power. Children of prospectors who had worked with dark matter while they were in utero similarly developed such powers too. A handful of cases did however develop brain tumors, though these cases seemed to be relatively low. The lab was racing to comprehend as more cases rose. “I suppose we should let him pursue such a path then. If he’d rather pursue medicine, you can change his courses accordingly.”

“Of course, Mr. Miller.” He left the teacher and made for the doors. His cellphone buzzed just as he exited the doors, coming from Morozov.

_‘Dr. Miller, how’s the research on these telekinetics going?’_

“I haven’t checked in with the lab. There’s still a lot to understand ranging from its strain on the body to its full applications.”

_‘I’m not sure I follow.’_

“It’s like working a fifth limb. This is a completely new field of study. Per your request, Dr. Noel does have workers down in the lab devising further adjustments to the cloned children so that this manifests with greater stability. From there, we can apply this with the non-clones.”

_‘Sounds interesting. Do you have time to talk about it in person?’_

“I’ve got work to do on the dark matter ships. The first few ships massive transports are almost ready to come out of the drydock. Nicole can explain it further.” In reality, he sought to avoid talking with the Major if possible.

_‘Very well. I’ll talk to you soon.’_

* * *

**April 07, 2063**

**School chemistry classroom of the Original Base**

Terry continuously led a busy life in his childhood. Between his usual studies, he was expected to attend his martial training classes after school and explore his telekinetics and nanite control on weekends. Since he sought a career as a doctor, he’d been given additional glands along his limbs and torso to bolster his total count even higher. It was almost the end of class for the day and he was spinning a small ball of energy in the palm of his hand, having been told even the smallest practice was good for learning to master them.

His telekinetics while impressive quickly became a minor gripe. It had been a hot topic that the lab and the major consistently asked of him. The powers were hard to control and even harder to maintain when he juggled multiple objects. Among the phrases he mentally associated with the powers were ‘hold this,’ ‘throw that,’ ‘keep as many balls in the air as possible,’ and ‘block this’ was the worst offender as it was followed by a volley of airsoft pellets or a rubber bullet. Either before or after, he would be crammed with protein bars too, which had the taste and consistency of cardboard. Another benefit granted by the nanite development was that it did help him adapt to his powers than the kids who weren’t grown in a jar.

The bell rang and he hustled out the door with his bag in hand. He would be heading down to the lab for more nanite testing today and he wanted to get it off his list of chores to do before dinner as soon as possible. The hallway was dense with students getting out of class and the amount of room he had to navigate was thinning rapidly. Brushing past his locker to grab his bag and unload his books, he nearly ran through another girl in the process. “Hey! Are you blind, Terry?”

Alice Noel, like her mother had gray eyes, a slim face, a light bump on her nose, and shoulder-length light brown hair which she tied back in a ponytail. They’d become friends a month before and enjoyed talking after class. “Sorry, Alice. Got lab today,” he apologized, offering a hand back to her feet. “What’re you doing after class?”

She started with a nervous look to the side. Curiously enough, she was looking at engineering and was looking to taking up classes on computer hardware and mechanics among others. “Got some homework to wrap up with. How’s Saturday after your next lab?”

“It depends on how much time Major Morozov now wants. He’s putting me under more telekinetics drills and I’m typically winded after those. Even if I weren’t, my dad wants me home right after those.”

“Sunday then?” Alice pouted.

“If I get my homework done in the morning, yeah. See you then?”

“See you then.” The two bid each other farewell and went their separate ways. Fifteen minutes later, Terrence arrived outside of the labs. A few other children were there already, undergoing similar inspections. For the most part, they were learning to control their own telekinetic capabilities. Only a few such as himself underwent more intensive modification. A lab worker beckoned him into one of the smaller operation rooms.

“Just in time. Come on in and take your shirt off. I need to make sure everything is developing well enough.” He stood in the center of the lab with his shirt off, showing the numerous incision marks he’d received the week before. In the days after, each one itched like hives and it took all his mental strength not to scratch. This time, it was a handful of cores that now were nested right next to his heart and lungs. The doctors told him it was necessary for what came next. “Are you feeling well? Are those cores making any sort of discomfort?”

“Just itchiness where the needles went, but it’s faded by now.”

“Good. Now see what you can do to shape the nanites.”

He raised his hand, looking at the strands of exposed muscle that lined his arm. Like a tub filling with water, the silver-gray sludge oozed out across his arm. It looked like a mirror had melted over him, still bearing its reflective surface. Suddenly, the gel turned solid. The surface had taken on the pattern of a wall of triangles like his arm had become poorly rendered on a screen. He brushed his other hand along the surface to admire the stainless-steel-like appearance. His arm straightened and he watched in awe as the polygonal surface shifted to adjust for the new shape. “Woah…”

“Very good. You can retract it now.”

It dissipated like a tub of water too. The skin absorbed the metal surface like a sponge, causing him to lose balance. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was from the effort of conjuring the hard surface. The doctor handed him his water bottle and not a moment too soon. He voraciously slurped up the rest of its contents and put his shirt back on. “Yikes, that’s exhausting.”

“That’s to be expected. The process is very energy intensive and it will take your body some time to get used to manifesting that many. That’s why you’re given the cores. Along with powering those nanite glands, they should also help with managing your telekinetics. Go refill your water canteen and come back here. Once you’re ready, let’s run a few other tests.”

* * *

**June 29, 2068**

**Commonwealth Military Training Facility**

Many of the cloned children were concluding with what would’ve been considered high school at their age and Colonel Morozov subsequently jumped forward the training timeline of those he chose to join the future ranks. To experiment, teams of four were formed with a very loose command structure between themselves. The argument was that structure would naturally form on its own accord given enough time and cooperation between teammates. Teams that wouldn’t work with each other would have members who experienced infighting replaced form a member of a team who also experienced similar infighting until unit cohesion was achieved.

Per his own father’s desires, Terry wanted to pursue further medical education, but was willing to deviate and apply himself in such a unit. There would be plenty of time in the future to begin higher education. He’d quickly gotten to know his current teammates and potentially future squadmates. Roland Clarke was one of Alice’s former classmates and was looking to become a field technician and was nothing but astute. His eyes were a dark brown, had short brown wavy hair cropped low against his scalp, and was by the books through and through. Jeremy Hong was shorter but made up for a much broader build. He was a bit impulsive and brash when it came to positioning, but ultimately made up with his marksmanship. Carol Briggs was the only female present on the team and was amidst making up her mind between the corp. and working construction. It was strange how she could play loosely and maintain a serious composure.

Currently, they were playing a fight simulation against another squad and the other three were already tagged out. The others had been sloppy and left him against two remaining opponents. They were constantly hounding him into a corner and his stock of ammo and ideas were running low. In the corner of his vision, he telekinetically yanked at Carol’s ditched equipment vest from out in the open after she shed it for being tagged out. Her role was the team demolitionist and she carried more grenades than magazines.

He knew that at least one of his opposition was a bit more passive in their tactics and held the top of a small hill at the center of the training map. Another was pushing up a small building towards his position. Saving one of the grenades, he pulled the pins on the rest, watching their spoons fly, and paused to let them cook for a couple seconds. With another hoist from his telekinesis, he hurled the vest and grenades on top of the hill, either flushing out his opponent or downing them entirely. He circled around the other side of his remaining cover, watching Mitchel drop his equipment and slink off to the sidelines.

A volley of fire nearly grazed him as he made for the base of the small hill. The last opponent was huddled in the same building as before and probably wouldn’t be moving. With the last grenade, he landed it in front of the building and laid down cover fire at the front-facing wall. He instead made for the back entrance, hoping the move gave the impression was attacking the front. His pace slowed to a crawl, cautiously working through the rear hallway. The diversion didn’t work, and she was already at the other doorway anticipating his approach. She knocked the rifle out of his hands and nearly shot him had he not grabbed the barrel of her rifle.

The scuffle continued as the rifle was pushed towards the ceiling, letting off another burst of rounds followed by his fist to her side. Distracted by pain, he turned her rifle against her only to find it empty. Before she could stumble back to her feet, he tossed the rifle at her, forcing her hands up in defense before swapping to his sidearm and firing off a few.

_“Score: Blue Team victorious.”_

Alice glared at him and huffed. “Cheating bitch.”

“I still won,” he smirked.

She stood and brushed herself off as they exited the arena. The others from their respective squads had also returned to the field to gather their dropped equipment. Colonel Morozov continued to watch from an overhead booth. “That was a good match. Great work. Now gather your equipment so the next teams can begin.”

Having gotten over the temporary bitterness of the defeat, she was willing to offer complement. “Not going to lie, you did give Charles a good scare when you dropped that pile of grenades on top of him.”

“And don’t discredit your own abilities. You still nailed Jeremy hard. I’ll catch you later. Got my team to tend to.”

“Okay. But you still owe me lunch tomorrow.”

He passed her one more smile before turning to leave. The others were already waiting outside of the arena wall for him. “Not a bad shot, Terry. You’ve got one hell of a throwing arm,” Carol cheered.

“Yeah, that was a hell of a show, boss,” Roland added in.

Terrence followed close behind them to the lockers. “Thanks, but I’m not squad-leader just yet. But if we’re going to decide I’m boss of this team, I’m starting with some basic ground rules. I trust you guys to work together, but I’m not liking where you guys are on the field.”

“It was still a victorious scrimmage, Terry.” He almost didn’t hear Jeremy as the sharpshooter was facing into his locker.

“Just some things for performance in the future.” He grabbed his towel and pointed at Roland. “Clarke, you’re as good as my second-in-command here. You’re smart and I don’t want you waddling off alone or out in the open. Jeremy, you’re better off just hanging back. Taking point like that is cute, but if you’re going to go down in close quarters like that without a fight, you’re better off laying down cover fire. And remain attentive about your surroundings too. Carol, I liked what you did with that initial drop, but I want you to coordinate your ‘nades a little better. Sound good?”

He simply heard a mix of approving grunts.

“Good. Catch you guys later.”


	5. Mountains and Anthills

_These first few ‘bug hunts’ set the precedent of what we were to expect going forward. Beneath the surfaces of these barren planets was a menagerie of the toughest flora and fauna. It’s ran against the grain of anything we’d trained for back in basic, but it established what other horrors inhabited the galaxy. For animals, they put up a stiff fight. But their remains do look nice on the mantlepiece._

* * *

**Aug 25, 2071**

**Ender Memorial Hospital**

In the middle of an operating theater, several other doctors stood at his side, watching Terrence work. Per the revised requisites for medical staff, it was the last hurdle of his medical exams and he had to work with a real scenario under the supervision of other peers. Augmenting his current suite of nanite glands was a couple additions to his eyes. His vision could now be adjusted across the light spectrum and scan other’s vitals at a quick glance with nuances like hormonal changes and pain registered on display. The information was then projected onto a green holographic eyepiece that projected from slit right next to his right eye.

His subject was a miner that had been flown in earlier that day. As Delta Base continued expanding across the planet surface, new mines were established further and further away as flight capacity enabled further travel and the environment was continuously shaped to be more hospitable. The poor man had suffered a crushed chest cavity and it was his job to mend the ribs, reconnect arteries, check the health of internal organs, and clean out the injuries. Since nanites lacked anesthetic capabilities, the victim had been put into a medical coma beforehand.

Overall, the operation had clocked in at around half an hour and the patient was just as good as he had been prior to the injury. “Exceptional job, Miller,” one of the doctors complemented. “You did rush the job a fair bit for an injury of this severity, but the patient is alive and can now start recovering.”

Terry allowed the holographic eyepiece to fade first. “Did I pass?”

“A passable grade,” another answered. “There are a few instances where you didn’t follow SOP, but you did receive points for creativity under pressure. While we do have to follow the board for that, it does bring your grade up significantly.”

“Anyways, well done. You’ll hear from us in a week’s time.”

* * *

**Sept 4, 2071**

**Vulcan Armory, telekinetics training center**

The alarm howled its harsh buzz. _‘First room, go! Hit those targets!’_ The concrete mock-up was made comparatively equivalent to the typical CQB test with the exception it was made for testing telekinetics. The first room was a display of one’s ability to throw and pull opponents. There were three dummies out in the open and one on an elevated platform. His right hand tossed forward an underhanded energy wave running down the front-most three before using his left hand to yank the fourth towards himself, causing it to fall forward off its stand.

_‘First room clear! Move to the second!’_ The path continued where the elevated dummy was, encouraging users to propel themselves upward with their powers in conjunction with their legs. The second area was a creative exercise where the user was to down two combatants among three civilian dummies. _‘Hit the targets!’_ Terrence catapulted himself at one like a spear, landing into a roll. Using the new angle with no civilian, he boosted again and knocked the other target down. _‘Second room clear! Drop down to the third room!’_

The drop to the third area was much more considerable than the drop from the first. His legs would withstand the height, but the objective was to use the telekinetics to soften the descent so the stress on his legs was more manageable. He formed a sphere of energy around himself, creating the gravitational equivalent of ‘drag.’ The landing was much lighter than if he’d only jumped. Touching down, there was an encirclement of three friendly dummies and another two hostile dummies equipped with turrets. This was the only live-fire part of the exercise.

Grinding to a halt among the three unarmed dummies, his arms shot out to the sides to project a transparent wall in front of him before the turrets let loose. The ripple each round caused looked like the splash of water off an umbrella amid a light rainstorm. When the turrets stopped, he dropped the barriers and unleashed a burst of energy into the ground, suspending the dummies behind the turrets in the air. _‘Third room clear! Head to the exit!’_

Clarke had been waiting at the exit, eyeing the timer as he crossed the finish line. “Twenty seconds flat. Not bad, Terry.”

“Good to see you here, Roland. We’re being deployed?”

“You guessed it. Rebus’ mines are running into more shrimp. We’re gearing up.”

The two made for the barracks just down the hallway. In the men’s locker room, Jeremy was already halfway into his suit and had been locking the boots into place. The standard infantry armor was a military variant of the EVA suits designed for space technicians and was composed of the same multi-layered body glove at the base. The layers were a complex sandwich of various components which helped the user’s strength and survivability in both lower and higher-pressure environments as well as colder and hotter temperatures. 

The innermost layer was a cotton-like weave which provided the user with sensory data, letting them know if they were being touched. Layered on was a net of interconnected wiring to hook up the internal hardware and provide the user with health diagnostics. The third layer was a gel layer that regulated internal temperature, hardened in the circumstances of anticipated physical trauma, restructured to form a caste if the limbs experienced a fracture, dissipated the shock of an incoming force, protected the user from radiation, and sealed the suit in case of a rupture. The outer layer was composed of the same wire netting as the inside and the carbon fiber outer layer. Lined in between the layers was an exoskeleton lining the limbs and spine, evenly distributing the weight of the suit and augmenting the user’s strength. Terry and his crew didn’t find the extra strength necessary, but it was a nice bonus.

The suit sealed along the chest up to the neck to meet the helmet. Over the top of the suits was a layer of interlocking, overlapping armor pieces that could withstand a glance from some space debris. The shape of the suit accented the human form and had slots for ammo pouches along the lower torso, arms, and thighs. The upper back of the suit had integral air supply and filters that fed underside of the helmet through slender tubes intertwine with the body glove. The helmet was an extension of the FAST helmet with the forehead extended outward to fit in an air-tight visor. The back was extended downward and forward to seal off the lower jaw and to connect with the neck-portion of the body glove, forming a tight, pressurized seal. Cosmetically, the suits themselves were adorned with dark olive green and dirt-brown undertones. Current military regulations kept this color pallet locked.

Terry stepped his feet into the suit and zipped up the seal along his chest and clipped on the chest piece on top. After clipping on the boots, he reached into the locker for his helmet and took a moment to admire his reflection in the helmet’s silver visor. Like his father, he had amber eyes, a slim face and nose, and pronounced cheeks. Much to his irritation, his black locks would grow to neck-length and he would regularly keep it trimmed down to a crew cut. He didn’t sport much in the way of facial hair, but small bits were starting to grow in. The helmet slid on with a click as the suit connected with its lower half. The HUD flashed the visor, showing his own health, his team’s health and location within a fifty-meter radius, communications, and ammo reserves if he had his rifle equipped.

Exiting the lockers, they met up with Carol outside of the lookers, similarly adorned in armor as they were. It was hard to distinguish the differences from the male and female variant due to the abundance of armor, but the dimensions were adjusted to take into consideration the difference in hips, shoulders, and chest. Functionally, hers was no different from theirs. “So where to now, boss?”

“We’re heading out with Second Squad on the next supply shipment to Rebus. We’ll grab our stuff from the armor and head down to the docks with them on the next tram.”

* * *

**Supply ship towards to Rebus**

Each member of both teams inspected their weapons in silence and kept to their own groups. The newest assault rifles, LMGs, PDWs, and sniper rifles were all modeled after the ancient AR-15 platform that had been in use for the better part of a century. Along with streamlining production for a multitude of weapons, it eased the training process for new recruits as the use and maintenance would be the same across all weapon archetypes. Sidearms were only handed out to a handful of technicians, medics, and officers, but typically followed many of the same attributes of the modern sidearm from Earth. The weapons themselves were now powered by dark matter drives instead of gunpowder, reducing excess sound and the need for ear protection. Cartages were now simplified to pointed rods roughly the same length as their predecessors. Most of the other designs from the older weapons were kept with minor changes for redundancies such as shell extraction.

"Alright, listen up," Terrence ordered. "Shrimp may not favor cover and our suits can handle their claws just like any bullet, but I still want us in tight formation and with eyes in every direction. They scuttle around in the dark, their carapaces are just as tough as ours, and their acid has proven menacing to our guys in the field. R&D has graced me with solution spray to neutralize the acid, but if anyone gets pegged, we hold back until we’re ready to push forward again. I’ll spray down the injury and patch it up just like everything else. We take this nest slowly and carefully and no one goes home in body bags. Is that clear?"

“You got it, boss.”

“Quick question, boss.”

“Permission to speak, Carol.”

“Any suspicions we’ll just turn into an over-militarized police state completely dedicated to shooting up oversized bugs forever?”

“Bit early to be asking such questions.”

The trip to the sunbaked planet was otherwise uneventful. As the ship touched down, he peered out of the port-side window at the planet they just arrived at. The surface was entirely devoid of life with little other than sand and rock for miles. The shape of the mountains was strangely geometric with nigh a natural shaped stone in sight. The landscape almost resembled a carving typical of a museum piece.

The camp composed of a few prefab buildings in the middle of a flat, slightly hilly opening at the foot of a mountain. The mine entrance composed of a standard reinforced ramp leading up to a covered area, with a sealed airlock at a forty-five-degree angle into the planet.

The team followed the other crew as they offloaded the supplies. A requisition officer awaited them at the foot of the loading ramp. “Corporal Miller reporting, sir.”

He couldn’t see the captain’s face behind his reflective visor. “Welcome to Rebus, Corporal. I’m Captain Johnson. The prospector team recently hit upon another Shrimp hive. We’ve got them cornered in there, but we’re still sitting atop a potential danger to the miners here until you flush it out.”

They eyed the entrance of the mine where security had already mopped up a dozen or so escaping shrimp. The creatures had been named such for the main segment of their body clearly resembling a dead, curled up shrimp. The tail split off into a total of eight limbs, with four supporting the weight of the creature, two acting as pincers for grabbing and physical interaction, and two whip-like tendrils that spat acid. Its red carapace shown brightly in the afternoon sun. “I see. Do you have a plan, or is that my problem to sort, sir?”

“I want Second Squad to take point in front of your team once they’ve helped unload the supplies for this mining camp. You’ll be taking up their rear and mopping up any stragglers behind them. After the mine is clear, locate the nest and withdraw your team and leave Second Squad. A team of pyrotechnics will be down to flush out the nest and burn anything else out.”

“Understood, sir. Let’s get a move on, guys.”

The mine entrance was still unlocked when they approached it. The doors were lightly marred by small splashes of acid and other blood. Second Squad closed in from behind them and opened the hatch. After the airlock allowed opened the other set of doors, they found themselves looking down a dimly lit pipe roughly six meters in diameter and fifty meters in length with lights affixed along either side. Terry allowed Second Squad to take several paces ahead before allowing his group to follow. The walls were scored with deep gashes from splashes of acid and blood from both human and shrimp alike. He even saw what looked to be a severed forearm with blood still trickling from the stump. The bone partially jutted out where the insect must’ve bit down and tore it off from judging by how the material was crushed. The ends of the flesh were a mix of red and silver strands of severed tissue.

The base of the entrance tunnel was no better. The locker area had been some sort of holding position for those who were still stuck in the mine, with a broken barricade, strewn prospector corpses. The bodies were still fresh too, with barely a day’s worth of decay having settled in. The center of the room was a small lake of human and alien fluid where the soil dipped downward from consistent traffic. “Poor bastards. They didn’t stand a chance,” Jeremy cursed.

“Looks to be upwards of twenty people down here,” Terrence guessed by the relative number of parts thrown about. “It’s a goddamn massacre. Keep tight. I don’t want any of us joining them.”

Gunshots echoed ahead as Second Squad encountered the first wave. Following close behind, it was apparent their counterparts weren’t finding too much trouble. “This area’s clear. We’re pushing forward.”

Terrence nodded in acknowledgement. “Check those side entrances. Any one of them could be housing more shrimp.” He peered into one of the many holes. His hand brushed along his helmet-mounted lamp, jutting a beam of bright yellow into the dark. Large drills had been up and abandoned with many of the same signs they’d seen on their way in. One of the tractors still had a pair of legs still left in the driver’s cabin with blood and intestinal tract laid down upon the knees. Almost too late did he peer down at a hole in the ground to see a shrimp read to pounce on him.

His rifle continued to spit rounds as it leapt upon him. It completely knocked the wind out of him land directly on his chest, tossing his rifle from his grasp. It reached a tendril to shoot acid right at his helmet only for his hand to grab it and shove it aside, dissolving the rock only a foot to the left of him. Grabbing the knife off his belt, she shoved the blade clean through the underside of its jaw, killing the beast swiftly. Roland shoved the corpse off him and helped him back up. “You okay sir?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I don’t think I got doused in acid. Suit diagnostics are fine.”

More gunshots ahead. This time with more dire yelling. “No time to waste! Let’s give them a hand!” The mine caves were a winding labyrinth of crossways and support pillars. Eventually, they found Second Squad. Or rather what was left of them. The team leader was nowhere to be seen and two were struggling to hold off a rush of shrimp while the fourth was being clawed at by three shrimp simultaneously.

The first target was the three dogpiling the poor soldier. Bullets quickly ate at their shells and perforated the soft tissue and flesh underneath. “Back on your feet soldier, I- **Jesus!** ” The poor man hadn’t stood a chance. He’d been quartered, leaving barely even a jut of bone with which to defend himself. The armor had been cleanly eaten away and the stomach wall was completely gone. Blood oozed profusely from his stomach, the organs had been half-eaten, and the ribs were broken and peeled back to make way for the bugs. The soldier’s helmet had been ripped off and acid at the lower left side of his face. He expired mere seconds later.

“Boss, we’ve still got company!” He rejoined the others in the fight. More shrimp poured from the walls like wasps, voracious and angry. Another shrimp dove from a hole in the ground and grabbed one of the Second Squad survivors, shoving its acidic tendrils against his lower torso and spraying her down. Terrence dragged her back to safety and pulled out his neutralizing agent to save her. He wasn’t fast enough to prevent her torso from being reduced to a spinal column.

The last one had been yanked into the ceiling. Kicking and screaming, Jeremy jumped up and grabbed onto his legs, attempting to drag them back down. The upper torso was suddenly cut away, causing Jeremy to drop with only the legs. The beast dropped down to reveal itself. It was twice as big as the rest and had a darker composition to its armor. Terry hastily suspended into the air with his telekinetics. “Carol! Lay into that thing!”

“You got it!” She quickly swapped over to the underbarrel grenade launcher she had on her rifle and started pelting the thing as quickly as she could. The beast continued squirming to free itself from Terry’s grasp, squealing in pain under concentrated fire. One more round tore it open like a pumpkin, making it go slack. The shrimp gradually thinned out in numbers before dying out altogether. Their ears rang from the sudden silence that had fallen under the chamber.

Roland peered into a large hole in the ground at the far back end of the tunnel. “Boss, I think I found where our bugs came from.”

He followed behind him and followed his gaze. The tube going down was long, but he could barely make the outline of a small den filled with orbs. “Nothing comes up from here. Jeremy, you and I are heading back to the surface to give the captain the all-clear. We’ll send back those demolition teams. Don’t stir them any further for now.”

* * *

**Mines, main entrance**

Roland took his helmet off and drew the canteen from his backpack and took a long swig of water. There was still enough atmosphere down in the mine to offer him some temporary reprise before he slotted the helmet back into place. As promised, the demolition mining team arrived shortly after. He was disappointed that the corporal hadn’t been with them. No doubt he’d taken a break instead of returning to see the job fully done. “You the demolition team?”

“We’re it. We’ve got the thermite in hand. Just point us where.”

He put his canteen back. “This way. We found the point where the miners broke into their hive.” Initially it had been a calm walk back. The caves were clear of hostiles and nothing would continue to come of it. Then the light tremors kicked in. Nervously, he picked up his pace. He’d suddenly gotten the mental image that Carol had gotten impatient. The tremors got worse, prompting him to break into a run.

Carol rushed back to greet them. “About time! I think the cave is about to come down on us!”

“You weren’t supposed to light up that cave yet.”

She was about to respond, but her initial words got caught in her throat. “Excuse me? Just what’s bitten you?”

“You didn’t detonate the nest?”

“Of course not! What do you think I did?”

* * *

**Mining camp, short of the entrance**

Terry stood at a telecommunications prefab, talking with the technicians present. “Get word back to HQ. The mine’s been secure, but we lost Second Squad in the fight.”

“Of course. It’ll take us maybe fifteen minutes before we hear anything back.”

“Good let me know when they get back to you.” He stepped back outside where Jeremy was waiting for him. “Is the ship back ready yet?”

“They’re still loading, sir. It’ll be a little while yet. Quite the first mission so far.”

“Yeah. Sorry I couldn’t do much for Second Squad.”

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me, sir. Besides, we were told to hang back and we probably would’ve gotten torn up with them had we not.”

“That’s a bit a conclusion to jump…” The ground started lightly shaking. “You feel that?”

“Just a quake, sir… I think.” The strength of the shaking gradually intensified.

He looked down at his feet in concern, watching the dust shake off the hardened stone. “Does this planet have fault lines, Jeremy?”

“Search me, boss. I’m not a prospector.” They heard an explosion at the other side of the camp, followed by a piercing wail that shook both men to their cores. Then there was the scream of the various prospectors around the camp. Terry rounded the side of the prefab to find the source of the noise. The nightmare on display was a gargantuan worm with a head like a cross between a snail and a praying mantis. It still protruded from the ground and was seven meters in width. Its purple flesh was protected with layers of tan platting and the sides were adorned with countless legs like a centipede.

Captain Johnson had been running through the opening, directing security to gun down the monster as it continued to snap up and eat the closest few prospectors to it. “Corporal! I need that thing dead!”

“Captain? I don’t know how to put this, but we don’t have enough ammo for a bug this big!”

“We don’t have time to call for help! We-” Another worm, much closer this time, burst from the ground only ten meters from them and spat a ball of green. Terry reacted quickly enough and shoved himself and Jeremy to safety. Looking up, they saw Johnson had taken the full brunt of the attack and was writhing in pain. The acid quickly ate through his suit and quickly melted his skin. He continued to flail for a few seconds longer before his half-corroded skeleton slumped over in a puddle of green and red.

“Boss, we’ve gotta get out of here!”

“Not without Carol and Roland! Get to the top of the mine entrance and start taking potshots at one of those things. There’s got to be a chink in its armor we can use. I’ll stay down here and continue to draw its fire.”

“You can’t seriously think we can take that thing down!”

“No choice, go!” Jeremy sprinted back to the mine with his sniper in hand as Terry ran the other way around the prefab. More people had been either eaten or melted by the giant worms. From the corner of the prefab, he looked around and started firing at the head of the most prevalent of the two. Quickly enough, he’d garnered its attention and it spat a ball of acid at him. He narrowly dove out of cover, watching as the wall of the prefab behind him dissolved. The other was much closer and it similarly lobbed its acid at him.

This time, he was much quicker on his feet. What mattered was that the projectile it launched had some mass he could focus on. He used his telekinetics to catch the ball, swing it around like a slingshot, and threw it right back, nailing it above the jaw. The creature writhed in pain as the acid dissolved its facial plates. Jeremy followed up with a couple of quick shots through the weakened material, piercing something important. It waved back and forth a little longer before slumping on top of a prefab dead.

The other sunk back into its own hole and dug around to a new location in the camp. The ground underneath a couple of prospectors softened moments before the worm erupted underneath them, consuming them both as it sprung up. It did provide him with a risky idea, but an idea all the same. He rushed over to a supply depot with a bunch of prospectors hiding inside. “Do you have any mining charges in here?”

The miners barely looked up from their hiding spots. “We’ve got plenty. But I don’t think the explosion has enough power to put a dent on its shell.”

“I’m not trying to pierce its shell. Pass me a few packs and a detonator.” They met his requisition quickly enough. Calibrating the detonator to the packs of plastic explosives, he held the devices under his left arm and clipped the detonator to his belt. He found a relatively open spot between prefabs to put down the explosives. Now all that was left was to catch the worm’s attention. His rifle was set to semi-auto and Terry had been cautious not to use more ammo than he needed to. There weren’t as many prospectors running around in the open anymore, so it wouldn’t take long.

Still searching for food, the worm dove back into the ground out of sight. He didn’t budge an inch, waiting in anticipation for the ground to shift. Undoubtedly like many before him, the ground under his feet dissolved into dust. He narrowly jumped out of the way as the worm’s head shot up right behind him. It looked down and bellowed one last roar before the charges exploded, showering him in a visceral orange. Chunks of alien flesh, bone, and carapace were thrown in all directions for thirty meters.

Terrence slowly stood back up, ears ringing from the shock. “Jeremy… Jeremy? Y-you still there?”

The sniper’s voice came through with sharp relief. _‘Christ, boss! You’re still alive down there?’_

His lungs heaved a cough and his palm pressed against the dead creature to keep him upright. “Yeah. Barely-y. Head down and see if you can f-fetch the others. We’re d-done here.”


	6. Knocking the Door

_I’m honestly surprised it took us as long as it did to finally notice the large alien structure floating at the outer-most orbit of the system. By the looks of things, it’s been sitting there dormant for quite a long time too. From what I’ve heard so far, it’s some sort of stationary post for providing FTL travel. How it’s remained functional or intact after all this time isn’t clear._

* * *

**Jan 14, 2073**

**Mani Cluster / Orbit around the alien relay aboard an expeditionary vessel**

“Dr. Miller, it's getting late,” Nicole reminded him.

Miller brushed a hand through his graying hair. He along with Noel and roughly a few dozen thousand on Midgard had opted out of any nanite implants entirely. It was his wish to maintain his life as he had on Earth. Before him was a screen displaying the numerous scans they’d taken of the alien artifact they’d been stationed around for the past week. “I’ll be but a moment. Just admiring it.”

Since its discovery they’d been sending expeditions through to wherever the relay pointed. They hadn’t gone far, but the crews had already mapped out a plethora of other systems waiting to be explored in depth. What held his curiosity more was the FTL structures themselves and how they worked. Material samples for testing the age of the structure turned out inconclusive, leading to only speculations about the actual age. How was this machine expected to retain energy for continuous use or maintenance? Did it even need maintenance or was did whoever construct this actually accomplish the impossible feat of eternal-lasting civilization?

Noel walked up alongside him. The wrinkles had started to settle into her own face as well and gray strands had speckled her hair bun. “You can dream more about these from your bunk. You’re no good tomorrow morning if you’re sleep deprived.”

“You ever wonder what’d we find out here?”

“Pardon?”

“Two decades ago, we only came out here for solutions to our population and energy crises. What we got was a permanent relocation from Earth and a shift of attention towards exploring this galaxy.”

“Please, doctor. We can discuss this tomorrow.”

* * *

**Feb 8, 2073**

**Vulcan Armory, Exodus Square**

“I can’t believe we may actually be done with fighting shrimp for good,” Terry groaned. He and Alice had stopped for coffees on their way back to the barracks. The past two years were long and nightmare-inducing. Many more had given their lives in the fight against the various colonies of fauna on the other planets. There wasn’t anything besides the shrimp and sandworms that inhabited the system. For once, they could bask in relief.

“At least you had to contend with body bags and casualty reports. I’ve been saddled with fixing acid damage and rewiring machinery,” she retorted.

Finishing up his coffee, he tossed the cup into the recycle bin and stopped at the locker doors. “Anyways, I gotta go. I’ll probably be gone for at least a week, so I’m going to take a raincheck on that date this weekend. You got time the Friday after?”

Her brow raised in exasperation. “Okay, but don’t be late.”

He waved goodbye before making for his locker to suit up. Colonel Morozov summoned his team from their brief leave, promising a very important assignment. With his helmet in hand, Terrence entered the command center of the barracks. It had once been the watchtower for the original Project, long since retrofitted for more extensive operations. Grigori hadn’t aged too gracefully and visually looked like he should’ve thrown in the towel a decade prior. The old man insisted he continue, always promising the next year would be his last.

“Colonel, you wished to see me?” he saluted.

“At ease, corporal. I assume your team will be coming along shortly?”

“They will. I’ll brief them on anything they missed.”

“Good. This is important. We lost contact with one of our exploration teams several hours ago. They had a small security detachment with them, but little else. I want you to conduct recon and find out what happened to them. Your second objective is to find any possible survivors and bring them back alive. If you do encounter any hostiles there, take them down, but approach at your own discretion. Is that clear?”

“I understand sir, but wouldn’t it be more advisable to send a taskforce for a potential danger this big? If we’re dealing with worms again, fighting those still requires a lot of coordination.”

“You and your team have proven yourselves quick thinkers in these first-confrontation scenarios. I trust your judgement. Now get going, corporal. I’ve already arranged for a medium shuttle to get you over there.”

* * *

**Hades Gamma / Antaeus System / Trebin**

_The ship had exited the alien relay only half an hour ago and had dipped into the upper atmosphere of their destination. The planet had a slightly weaker gravitational pull and colder average temperature, but it had a hospitable atmosphere, making it an ideal minimal-resource colony. “Alright guys listen up. We’ve got a silent exploration force up ahead. Up until now, we’ve had little information coming out and it’s our job to assess the situation down there. If it’s another case of worms or shrimp, we mark the site for quarantine and report back.”_

_Clarke raised a hand. “Sir, what if they’ve made contact with another sentient species?”_

_“I’d rather it wasn’t a hostile confrontation, but if we’ve got little choice in the matter, we’re free to engage if it means completing our mission. I don’t want the colonel dumping more men on this rock than he has to.”_

_‘Corporal, I’ve got eyes on the camp,’_ the pilot announced over the intercom. _‘The site looks abandoned.’_

“Anyone trying to hail us yet?”

_‘Negative, sir. I can’t get a peep out of ‘em. It’s all quiet down there.’_

“Put us down on a nearby hill. We’re going in. Jeremy, I want you providing us some covering fire on the way in. Pilot, stay on the hill and keep the engines off. I don’t want our guests to pick you up on thermals.”

“You got it boss.”

The ship landed gently on the grass hill, throwing the leaves about from the force of the thrusters. The squad disembarked with everyone but the sharpshooter making their way down the hill. Terrence was flanked by his two companions as they quietly closed the distance with the buildings. The first building they reached was a small greenhouse. Carol took point and peered through the back door, having been left ajar by the previous inhabitants. Towards the front of the prefab, the window had been completely shattered.

The front doorway told a similar story. Feeding into the town center, there was an overturned flatbed, there was no indication of anything wrong. _‘I see you down there, Terry. Can you see anything?’_

“Some possible signs of a struggle, but that’s it. No bodies or blood. No signs of that security detail either. We’re on our approach to the administration prefab to look for more answers.”

“Boss, check it out.” He followed Roland’s gaze to some light scoring by the door of the admin facility. It was clearly from gunshots, but nothing that would’ve been made by any of their own weapons.

“Wits about yourselves, guys. We’re not alone after all. Jeremy, keep your eyes on the sky. I don’t want anyone catching us inside.” They peered into the dark hallway leading inside. The lights shown dimly deeper inside, but nothing indicative of anything wrong appeared. The central office deeper into the heart of the building finally yielded some indication of a firefight. The main terminal had been completely shot up with more of the same damage from the outside, including a splash of blood across the main screen.

“Damn. Looks extensive,” the technician growled.

“Can you at least pull anything from it?”

“That depends if the SSDs have been fried or not.” He took a small cutting tool and began prying at the maintenance hatch.

Terry shook his head in concern before turning away to the office doorway. There was no point just sitting here; there could be evidence elsewhere in the building. He turned on his helmet-mounted lights and peered into the dark hallway. For a brief second, he caught a glimpse of a humanoid approaching the doorway. But it took him less than a second to realize that the face didn’t even resemble that of a human or how they had a rifle leveled at him. He jumped back, avoiding the subsequent hail of bullets pelting the doorway, catching his companion’s attention.

_‘Boss! What’s going on in there?!’_

“We’ve been engaged! Standby!” He drew out his own rifle and returned fire. For a second, the rounds glanced off some invisible surface around the alien’s body, causing the invisible wall to shimmer in his torchlight. After maybe a dozen rounds, the wall dissolved into thin air and the bullets continued to meet their mark. The alien’s armor did catch the bullets while others pierced clean through before three punched holes in the alien’s head. It fell over with a groan and gurgle, oozing its own red blood on the ground.

Up the hallway, there were several more alien voices in conjunction with footsteps. “Boss, what now?” Carol wasn’t doing much to suppress her panic.

“Carol, keep working that computer and pull out the SSD. Roland, wait for them to come into sight. I’ll toss them against the opposite wall and see if that puts a dent in their shields.” More of the same ugly aliens came into view, only to stumble backwards from his telekinetics. More bullets flew, chewing at their invisible barriers and punching holes in their armor. Whatever formed those barriers was tough, eating up much of their ammo supply before it would even break. Besides the barriers, the bullets did a good job tearing through them. Another one rushed Terry from the side with a blade affixed to the end of his rifle. He grabbed the barrel just short of the blade and twisted it to the side before drilling his face into the alien’s head. With his full strength, it only took a couple swings to break the barrier. The then finished it off by crushing his head against a pipe, splattering blood from the back of its head. “Stand down, guys. We’re clear.”

_‘What’s going on in there, boss? I didn’t see anything besides you guys enter the building.’_

“A bunch of aliens, pretty well armed. They looked humanoid too.” They were almost human. The arms, legs, and torso had the same structure. The head resembled that of an orc, with pointed ears, eyes, mouth, and a nose where they would’ve otherwise been on a human head. The nose, however, resembled the snout of a bad and it stretched all the way to the top of the head. The creature also had four black eyes, with no visible irises. There was a little bit of hair on the top of the head and a small goatee on the chin. “And they’re ugly.”

_‘Boss, I see a small ship approaching on the horizon, not one of ours.’_

“Got it. Grab the pilot and start up the engines. Let’s double-time it, guys. I think we’ve overstayed our welcome.” All three sprinted back to the door in short order. They’d barely made it out of the door when another local frequency kicked in.

_‘This is India-Niner, does anyone read? We’re the security detail of an expedition project asking for assistance. We’ve got wounded and civilians with us and we’re pinned down by unknown hostiles. We cannot hold them off.’_

The sniper spoke up again to ask, _‘Sounds like the missing security detail. Should we respond?’_

“Our objective is to get anyone we can home. Get the ship over to us for a pickup. They could possibly fill in some of the missing pieces of what happened here.” Eyeing the flatbed from earlier, he gave it a light shove from his telekinetics and set it upright. “Check it out, Roland. See if you can get it working again.”

The engineer hopped into the driver seat. “Still works, sir. Hop in back.” The other two boarded the flatbed and they drove off to the other side of town. A small dropship flew overhead to a small rising trail of smoke ahead. They drove into sight of a trashed civilian ship surrounded by more of the aliens. All three disembarked and took cover behind the truck. “What’s the plan, boss?”

“We’re short on time. Weapons free.” Bullets whizzed past them, encouraging Terrence to put up a barrier for the squad. He couldn’t shoot while it was up but did help even out the advantage the aliens had with their suit barriers. Overhead, the gunship entered a holding pattern to start firing before it was summarily shot down by the transport they’d arrived on. Similarly, Jeremy took a few crack shots at the stragglers down below. The day wrapped up with the small group of survivors still intact. The security chief exited with a few other civilians behind him. “Boy are you guys a sight for sore eyes. They disabled the comms tower as soon as they arrived.”

“How many still with you guys?”

“Squad of three, myself included. We also got six farmers still with us. A few of them are hurt badly. The rest were either killed or captured.”

“I’ll patch them back up on the way to Midgard. Carol, Roland, grab one of the alien bodies. I want a couple of these taken back. I’ll be helping move the injured.”

_‘All due respect, sir. Why do we want to bring their corpses with us?’_

“We need to understand what we’re fighting. And those suit shields are going to be a problem. Command will want them reverse engineered for our own purposes.”

* * *

**Turian Battle Cruiser _Quimus_**

Captain Vina Tiberdos flared her mandibles in concern. They’d picked up another slaver patrol deep in the Traverse. Unfortunately, they’d slaughtered their payload before they cleared all the decks. What they did have in their holding pens was unlike anything she’d seen before. What they found was somewhere between an asari and a drell with pink, smooth skin and silky stalks growing out of the fringe. It was a semi-organic life form the like’s he’d never seen. Where did such a lifeform come from? “What do you make of this doctor?”

The doctor behind her scrolled over the notes on his datapad in addition to any records the pirates had on their new find. “Interesting biological composition. Dextro in nature with light synthetic structuring, but I can’t tell much else. Whether or not it’s sentient, contagious, or of an aggressively expanding species is unclear. For the time being, I recommend we simply have these specimens frozen for shipment back to friendly space until we either encounter more of these or understand them a little better from what we have.”

“Contagious? Should we be wearing hazmat equipment around these?”

“Not necessarily, but the synthetic components do have me somewhat concerned. I do have some speculations, but nothing worth noting.”

“Then what are they? Collectors?”

“Any claims of the Collectors’ existence have all been sourced from deep inside Terminus Space. To claim they’ve wandered out here assuming they are real would be uncharacteristic. This is most certainly something else.”

“Right. I’ll get in a word with the Primarch, see what our next move is.”


	7. Red Skies at Morning

_Things haven’t improved since that first skirmish with the first group of aliens. After that, all remaining expeditionary groups were ordered to withdraw to our home system until the threat could be neutralized. Since then, more incursions into Mani Cluster have occurred and with increasing frequency. This past month, I’ve been sent from planet to planet warding off attack after attack and I’m quickly tiring._

* * *

**Feb 12, 2073**

**The Citadel / Widow / Serpent Nebula**

“And how long have you known about this?” Councilor Tevos leaned over her position at the table, eyeing the information she’d been given cautiously. It had only been barely a century since the last first contact with the botched evacuation of the drell off their dying homeworld. The three Council members sat around a circular table, passing various glances back and forth.

“Only a few days. One of the Hierarchy patrols picked up another slaver ship on its way to the Terminus. This is what they found in the hold,” Councilor Opticus explained. It had been a calculated decision to discuss the sudden arrival of this new species. The Hierarchy was the militant backbone of society. As much as he and Primarch Sancrian wanted to keep any pending threats under wraps in order to continue selling this idea, it was unwise to underestimate this new species. The last time any sort of synthetic life came to the forefront of the galaxy’s attention, the quarians – who had a strong military in their own right – had been booted off their homeworld.

“And what plans are being formulated for the eventual confrontation?” Councilor Alorna added. She did share Opticus’ concerns. The Salarian Union was the technological and intellectual heart of the galaxy, making the greatest strides in biological and technological discovery. There was opportunity to be found in this new species both for furthering this status and for usurpation.

Tevos shifted her weight in her seat. “Should we not attempt first contact with the deployment of ambassadors we’ve always had? If they’re already being subjected to batarian slavers, they may not have the capacity to pose a threat in the short term and we could possibly curate them to society’s needs.” If the Turian Hierarchy held strength in military and the Salarian Union found superiority in science and knowledge, then the Asari Republics held capacity in both realms. They stood as the central pillar of culture and civilized space.

Sancrian cleared his throat. “Mind you, the Salarian Union thought they could do the same for the Krogan during the Rachni Wars. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“Afraid they may trample over you?” The Salarian Councilor took umbrage at the comment.

The turian snarled. “Afraid they may be too much for you to control.”

“Enough. Both of you.” Tevos raised a hand in proposal. “For now, let’s conduct further reconnaissance within the Attican. It’s clear they have opened a new relay from over there based on batarian pirate movements. From what little we understand, they’ve fully withdrawn from areas outside of their system. With a little more triangulation, we can probably find their system, follow them through the relays, and begin establishing relations.”

* * *

**Feb 28, 2073**

**Exodus Square / Midgard / Mani Cluster**

“Hey!” The light shove to his shoulder finally nudged him awake.

He straightened, shaking off the bits of exhaustion that had been plaguing him. They were still in a small camp situated just in the center of the city, gradually anticipating a direct attack on Midgard. Barricades and various emplacements now dotted the city with squads stationed throughout. After staying on patrol the night before, he hadn’t had the time to get proper sleep, only nodding in and out of slumber on a whim. “Yeah?”

“You drifted off again.”

“Oh. Sorry about that.” Terry took a sip the water pipe from the back of his suit. Since its first introduction five years prior, the standard BDU had finally undergone its first revision, earning it the ‘MK. II’ designation. Along with minor improvements to long-term comfort, the body glove now siphoned off body sweat before heavily filtering it and depositing it into a small water reserve just above the air supply. From there, a small straw was fed through the neck component of the suit to the user. After reverse-engineering the dark matter shielding the alien suits ran with, the suit was also given a dark-matter shield generator towards the lower back of the chest component. Finally, the air supply saw further refinements, allowing users to stand out in hostile environments for up to twelve hours at a time before returning to a safe environment for air resupply. It was a redundancy as all users would cave to other needs first like food and restroom breaks.

Vision for mechanics and medics such as Alice and himself also received minor updates for a rudimentary form of close-range x-ray vision. This would make his own job easier when it came to mending wounds through armor without the need for removing it or allow him to make better assessments of injury severity in the field. For mechanics, seeing through the maze of wires and interfolding components was also helpful for diagnosing damage sooner. “How long was I out for?”

“Only half an hour. Feeling any better now?”

“Not really. My left lung still hurts a bit from my last firefight.” A sniper had pegged him in the chest, blowing clean through him. With his higher nanite gland count, he could heal effectively in a manner of seconds what could otherwise be considered lethal injuries. Still, looking at the injury after the fight, the bullet had been incredibly close to his heart and spine. Either injury would’ve been much worse. And even with all that, he could only handle a handful of severe injuries at a time. Numerous fractures would still take him a day or so to heal and his ability to heal from one big bullet hole didn’t mean he was still very vulnerable to being reduced to raspberry jam if he carelessly wandered outside of cover. The process wasn’t too energy taxing with his energy cores installed, the pain still lasted for days afterwards. He initially flinched, feeling her lips press against his cheek.

“Feel any better now?”

A smirk grew on his face. “Funny. Any idea when we’re shipping out?”

“No. I just asked myself.”

Colonel Grigori suddenly lumbered into view. “Okay, listen up. Flight control has spotted a sizeable cluster of those alien ships entering orbit and are projected to land east of Clouram. Squad leaders are to report to me back in the barracks. I’ve got two platoons and a few ships prepping to launch to reinforce the groups already stationed in Clouram. I want all of you on the third. The fourth armored division is currently being recalled from elsewhere into the system, but they’ll arrive an hour into the fighting. Move out!”

Alice stood up. “That answers that. C’mon. Time to go.”

He followed suit and grabbed a few grenades from an open case. “No need to tell me twice. Take care of yourself, Alice.” 

Her reflective visor didn’t show him what expression she had looking back at him. “You just take care of yourself. You’ve had a few close shaves already. I don’t want to see you in the morgue.”

* * *

  
**Clouram / Midgard / Mani Cluster**

The city of Clouram was developing into a trading port. As new startups on Midgard kicked off and an economy of its own grew, such trading ports developed in response to the demand for locations devoted to the activity. Plans were quickly being drafted up for continuous development as shipments both to and from spread across the planet and off it. Anticipation of the latter quickly died down after alien pirates became a known threat and the Commonwealth put a temporary bar on inter-system travel until the threat was neutralized.

The pirate crews on approach were surprisingly few in total. Analytics predicted based on the frequency of attacks and the size of each attack that the total capacity for the alien pirates should’ve been easily a few hundred times bigger than what was currently present. Perhaps they were unaware of where they were attacking or how many defenders would be present planetside. All the better to squish this when they could before the aliens figured out where they lived.

In anticipation of the attack, the civilian populace had been gradually evacuated. However, the evacuation was moving all too slowly and evac centers were still sorting people into shuttles out of town. Their ship landed in an intersection facing a small camp with lines of people folding around the city blocks. There was just no way they’d get out in time before the fighting started. They were greeted by another division on the ground leading the evacuation. A commanding officer awaited them just outside of the ship doors. “You guys the reinforcements? I was promised an extra thousand,” the captain

The platoon leader shrugged with dismay. “Fourth Armored Division is on recall. Until then, we’re it, captain. Colonel Morozov doesn’t want the planet left vulnerable defending one city. You have a game plan?”

He sighed. “Very well. I’ve got tank divisions lining up on the streets at several hard-points and SAM sites on the skyscrapers, city perimeter, and intersections. Any infantry I have at my disposal was split between here and the interwinding streets in between tanks and emplacements. Keep radio contact with the other squads and an eye on the map. If a position is overrun, your job is to relocate and reinforce that position until the herd thins out. Keeping shifting back and forth until their attack breaks or the Fourth Armored arrives. Now get moving. I’m still waiting on another couple of shuttles to arrive.”

Roland shook his head as they started hustling off. “Christ, Fourth Armored is going to be backing up a graveyard.”

“We just need to buy the evacuation an hour. Until then, we hold the fort against whatever they throw at us,” Terrence reminded. The city streets and buildings were empty. Every now and then, a piece of abandoned trash would be tossed through the empty street by the wind. It almost felt uncanny just how quiet the city was. Making their way to the edge of the suburban area, they saw more Commonwealth soldiers along the way in tanks, manning the aforementioned SAM platforms, portable walls, and a couple of trucks to move supplies. He led the group over to the nearest staff sergeant posted on the block. “What’s the situation, sir?”

“Still waiting for them to arrive, corporal. My orders are to hold this position until I’m overwhelmed.” Gunshots began to echo across town. “Get to a position. Seeing you’re the only medic and ‘netic for a couple of blocks, I want you on top of the situation.”

“On it, sir.”

_‘This is the South East Patrol reporting in. They’ve got gunships and dropships inbound. Watch yourselves!’_

An ugly rumble buzzed overhead as the first enemy ship rolled into sight. The SAMs did their job, overwhelming the ship’s shields with the first three shots and sending it spiraling into the side of a building with the fourth. The crash showered the street nearby with fire, glass, and concrete. Discouraged by the heavy fire, the alien transport ships landed a block short and dropped off their payload. From his position, Terry put up a barrier for a couple squads, feeling the physical recoil from the heavy pelting along his magical wall. 

Tunnel vision quickly set in as his effort was completely poured into holding the wall. The gunshots and yells morphed into a single blur in his mind and he could only lift his gaze to briefly inspect his surroundings. It was habitual to avoid overexerting himself too quickly, forcing him into a mentality of praying his teammates hit something. “Heads up! RPGs!” Rocket trails burned into view, forcing him to shift focus. He dropped the barrier to narrowly shove the rockets off their intended path, redirecting them into more of the nearby buildings. Had he been standing in a much more open area he would’ve redirected the rockets away into an opening or back at the senders.

In the moment his barrier was brought down, one of the soldiers in the other squad had his shields stripped by heavy fire and his stomach caught in the following flurry. Caught in the moment, he dropped his barrier again and rushed to the soldier’s aid, dragging them to cover. From the palm of his hand formed a small pool of silver before pressing it hard against the soldier’s stomach wall. “Just breath. You’ll be up in thirty seconds flat.” Terry stood back to full height when he saw the staff sergeant in his peripheral vision have a round tear clean through his visor as he rushed from cover, causing his corpse to cartwheel from the excess kinetic energy.

A tank shell ripped the air, tearing the SAM platform clean in half. He barely heard Jeremy bark, “Boss! Enemy armor in sight! We can’t stay here!” From his slim piece of cover, he could barely see the hull through the smoke.

“Fall back to the next hardpoint. Carol, start rigging explosives to cover our withdrawal. Jeremy and Roland cover her.” Terrence reached back down and yanked the downed soldier over his shoulder. More bullets whizzed past him and grazed his barriers. His eyes were fixed nervously on the energy indicator for his barriers on his HUD more than he watched the path where he was going. The bar was draining quickly, and the low power warning started to whine in his ear. He rounded the corner around the first portable cover he reached and set the soldier down. “Feeling better?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Terrence looked back around the cover, finding Carol inside one of the lobbies of the buildings along the block.

“Carol, tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing.”

_‘They’re rolling in more armor up the street and I know how to botch a demolition. Unless you’ve got more AT rockets over there than you do remaining magazines, get back here and cover our retreat.’_ There were indeed more alien tanks rolling up. One of the turrets turned and fired a shot, narrowly grazing the nearby tank hull. Narrowly avoiding machinegun fire, his squad made a mad dash back to the safety of the portable cover. “Charges are primed, boss. Just say the word.”

“Hit it.” The initial explosion sent out a cloud of concrete dust. With half of its support beams suddenly vaporized, the entire building began to lean over the side of the block. Too late did the aliens realize what the demolitionist’s plan was as they watched the building collide with the other directly opposite of it like a domino piece before folding in half and collapsing on the column of tanks.

More dust kicked up into the air, dropping visibility all the way down. The smoke began to clear, showing the entire street had disappeared under the debris from the collapsed building. The nearest officer stomped over to them snarling, “You mind telling me what your intentions were, corporal?”

Carol stepped up. “Sir, it was my decision to-”

“That’s enough, Carol,” Terry interrupted. “Sir, I accept responsibility for her actions. But I believe justification for destruction of civilian facilities was justified under the pretense of overwhelming alien forces.”

“Fine. I’ll be noting that in my report after the fight.”

The comms roared to life with another voice. _‘Any station! Any station! This is the northeast sector! We’ve been heavily pushed back and we’re heavily surrounded by alien forces! We’ve got fifty dead, seventeen wounded, our tank is dead in the water, and my CO’s down! Does anyone copy?’_

The officer sighed. “Best get over there, corporal. Take the supply truck. I’ll radio ahead and let ‘em know help is coming. We’ll stay here and hold this point in case the aliens try and make their way through the debris.”

* * *

Terry floored it the moment he hopped behind the wheel with Roland riding shotgun to provide navigational support. Carol and Jeremy rode in back with the supplies. The aliens had driven them back further than he expected and they were only a few blocks away from the evacuation site. “Boss, at this speed, you’ll run someone over.”

“Last I heard from that last radio call, we’re on the clock Roland. Either find me a faster route or just keep reading the current instructions.” It had been the fourth time the engineer had been reminding him about his speed. Terrence didn’t think it really mattered. The roads were straight and empty, they knew where all the hardpoints were, and the terrain was flat. There was no reason why he shouldn’t be driving to the contended site as quickly as possible.

“Looks like our guys are pinned down just five hundred meters ahead. It’s a pretty straight shot from here along this avenue.”

“Good. Hang on back there, guys!” The truck couldn’t have gone any faster. The only time he stepped on the brakes was when they finally arrived at the opening. Since the initial call for help, a few other squads arrived to their aid as well. He rushed out of the driver’s seat to the nearest piece of cover with other soldiers. “What’s the situation here, sir?”

“We’re still surrounded corporal. The tank’s mostly inoperable, but it still has its machine gun. Put down some cover fire and try to keep the aliens off. They’ve been trying to close the distance with RPGs and det packs.”

“You got it. Roland, get over to the tank see what you can do for them.” The gunfire continued to drown out anything else. Terry continued to juggle back, forth between maintaining a wall, tossing back incoming rockets and grenades, and tending to the countless wounded. More aliens and human soldiers alike continued to dump themselves into the meat grinder with no end in sight.

_‘This is Fourth Armored Division on recall entering the lower orbit of Midgard and on our final approach to the Clouram area. Is anyone still alive down there?’_

The officer nearby responded, “You’re just in time. Most of the aliens are pushing through the northeast sector of the city. We could use some air support in our area.”

_‘Hard copy. We’ll bring down the hammer and send in that air support. We’ve got a fix on your IFFs down there. Currently scrambling close-range bombers to clear the rest of those out. ETA five minutes.’_

Those were the longest five minutes of his life. Run that way, put up a barrier, run the length of the area, pick up a fallen soldier, drag them to cover, heal them, toss back several grenades, watch out for that tank gun, beware that sniper. The few aliens he did have the time to gun down were replaced seconds later by another alien that seemingly looked exactly like the one he just killed. Part of him wondered if these aliens were all clones of the same guy, given the same rifle and armor and deployed simultaneously. Whatever they were doing to mask their infinite numbers was working. It was demoralizing.

_‘This is November Hotel Six-Two, we’ve been greenlit to commence our bombing run. Firing for effect!’_

More thunder and explosions. The shockwave tipped Terry off balance, forcing him to crawl the rest of the way to cover. He huddled up against an upturned car shivering fearfully that either a munition fell short or shrapnel and debris were thrown his way and found some unobscured path through his armor and cover. With the ringing in his ears persisting, he initially hadn’t known the bombing run had concluded. No doubt it was just a case of tinnitus and dizziness yet to wear off.

Finding balance was troublesome enough afterwards. He struggled to find purchase against the car he’d been hiding behind but would fall over after trying to stand fully on his own. In the distance, a couple upright forms were lumbering over to him. Anticipating they were aliens, he started looking for his rifle. Where had he left it?

“Boss, are you alright?” Roland and Carol finally came into clarity.

“I… what happened?”

“Are you hurt?” This time it was Carol, putting his arm over her back to support him.

He scrutinized himself for any trace of injury or suit puncture. “I th-think I’m good. Just put me down somewhere, alright?” Nothing on him felt like it was hurting. He just felt tired and lightheaded.

“C’mon, let’s get him to the med station.”

“’s fine guys. I’m not hurt. I’m… I-I…” He lost consciousness a second later.

* * *

**March 1, 2073**

**Temporary Hospital / Clouram / Midgard / Mani Cluster**

Terry slowly came to lying in a medical bed, with Alice sitting in a chair next to him. “How do you feel?”

He shifted himself up, nervously eyeing the drip tubes feeding into his forearm. His armor pieces had been removed and peeled back to make way medical equipment. “I feel like the déjà vu is kicking in,” Terry groaned. “What’s the prognosis?”

“Nothing serious. You’re just strained and a bit dehydrated,” she reassured. “You’ll be back on your feet in a few days.”

“And the fight?”

“We drove them off. Fourth Armored mopped up the aliens after they returned to orbit. Still, they left us hurting.”

Grigori strolled in casually with a touchpad in hand, inspecting the various injured. “Ah, corporal. You’re awake.”

Terry struggled to sit up. “Colonel Morozov.”

“At ease corporal. You’ve already carried more than your weight.”

“To what do we owe you the pleasure of your visit?”

“Taking account of losses. We drove the aliens off, but they cut out a considerable hole in our command structure. A lot of enlisted died yesterday and I’m filling out some of the empty shoes. I’m making you Staff Sergeant, Miller. You’ve more than earned it and proven that you’re not only a capable leader, but also capable of protecting your subordinates and fellow crew.”

“Sir, this is a lot to suddenly undertake.”

“I’m sorry sergeant. We need capable hands to take up the responsibilities of those we just lost. Your uncanny ability to survive for as long as you did conditions that had broken so many others brings your resume above the rest. You along with the other recent promotions will be briefed on your responsibilities after your full recovery.” He tapped a few keys and turned to leave. No doubt on his way to give the same pep-talk to the next couple of corporals.

Alice leaned back in her seat and crossed her arms. “Anyways, what did I say about taking care of yourself?”

By now he’d shifted back onto the bunk. “I can’t exactly control what I am and am not thrown into the thick of. I just go where I’m needed.”

She leaned forward and pressed her lip against his. “Just listen and be careful, okay?”

“You just worry about yourself. I’ve got enough luck in my back pocket to sustain me for years. Keep this up and you’ll end up kicking it long before I do.”


	8. Drown in Fire

_The attack on home left a bitter sting. Not just for those who died in the attack, but the sudden realization of just how vulnerable we were. We don’t know to what extent they knew of our presence here on Midgard, but command figured it was only a matter of time before we saw attacks regularly on our home planet and we needed to squish this problem soon. I haven’t heard of anything specific, but they wanted to react dramatically._

* * *

**March 2, 2073**

**Citadel, Councilor Opticus' office / Widow / Serpent Nebula**

“Primarch Sancrian, I’m glad you decided to take the time to meet personally. Please, take a seat,” the Councilor greeted, shaking the Primarch’s hand.

“Thank you. I wasn’t exactly following your train of thought on this new species. Care to explain?”

“I believe there is an opportunity to be had here. One of entirely good faith, I assure you.”

“And why the secrecy? What are you worried about?”

“Above all else, I still have to prioritize the Hierarchy’s interests above the others’ concerns. They’re no different. In fact, no doubt the Dalatress is speaking with Councilor Alorna as we speak on this exact matter.”

Sancrian reclined slightly in his seat. “Very well. What is your proposition?”

“Batarian activity has surged in this past month in the Attican. By now, we’ve managed to triangulate their relay. It was a previously closed relay up until two months ago. The Council was going to reconvene next week to further decide our course of action. But they’ve been under the threatening pressure of the Hegemony for a month now. I think this would be an excellent opportunity to head in first and offer our protection against the batarian onslaught.”

“And turn them into a protectorate?”

“The hanar took in the drell with no questions asked, and I think we could do the same. I understand the risks of negotiating this way with a synthetic species, but I think the potential benefits outstrip the risks. And if our concerns about their biology are unfounded, they could potentially make strong allies.”

“This is under the assumption they aren’t able to militarily handle the batarian slavers. Since last month, the number of reports of this species appearing in batarian pirate inventories has dwindled. What if they do have the capacity to fight back against the Hegemony or they wish to maintain their sovereignty?”

“We should still have the situation assessed. If they don’t need our help to the extent of which military action is required, I can then arrange to find a solution to batarian aggression. And from that, they’ll owe us a favor.”

“What good do we hope to get from a favor? We don’t know if they have anything that we’d want to barter for.”

“Patience, Primarch. It may not be something I’ll find use for in my or your lifetimes, but it’s something we’ll have on hand decades from now. A power play.”

“Hmm. Your reasoning is sound. In that case, I’ll arrange an ambassador and an escort to enter their system. From there, they will ‘assess’ how desperate this new species is for peace and I’ll send word back to you. And then it’ll be your job to arrange that ceasefire.”

“I’m glad you agree.”

* * *

**Vulcan Armory / Midgard / Mani Cluster**

**March 4, 2073**

The intelligence officer stood in front of Terry with the piece of recovered alien hardware. “Adjust a bit. How about now?”

The R&D labs had finalized the structure of the auricular implants needed for understanding the aliens. Among the alien corpses, they’d found several subdermal implants linked to the alien’s hearing with software still intact. What had taken the longest time to work with the subdermal implants was the translation process, ensuring as close to a one-to-one translation of the alien language as possible. The officer pressed the key on the device again. “We’re making our approach to the next planet. Looks like we might have at a bigger haul this time.”

“Works fine. Thanks.” He turned and made his way to the other side of the control tower, scratching at the patch of skin under his ear.

Colonel Morozov and several other officers were looking at a holographic projection of the galaxy map recovered from the various alien ships. “As you can see, we’ve managed to piece together a significant amount of information from our alien foes thus far. Most importantly, we’ve collected enough nav data to generally find where they’ve been coming from and a possible home world.” The colonel intensified the image on a single system. Trails indicating the travel path of the vessels circled around a singular planet. “They’ve been frequenting a nice, well flourishing rock they call Ya’Bara. Now after the skirmish at the end of February, I don’t want to dump more men into this than I must. At the same time, I don’t want to expend all our nuclear capabilities on a single rock, especially one that from what little we have on it is an environment very much akin to Earth’s. It could be valuable in the future.”

“What is the plan then, sir?”

“We’re taking in a small fleet with a nuclear payload. In orbit, we’ll need to conduct further surface scans to determine our targets. Whether this is some sort of outpost or ship drydock, our job is to render it completely useless to the enemy war machine. This is a high-value planet for the aliens, and they can’t have it. Our fleet will be deep into enemy territory, so time is of the essence. In case they do send boarders, a few squads will be onboard for emergencies. After our payload is deployed, we’re immediately withdrawing. Any questions?”

Silence followed.

“Good. I want squad leaders down by the docks and prepared to ship out.”

Terry closed the distance with the colonel. “Sir, I do have a question, but I didn’t want to concern the other officers with the prospects.”

“What is it, sergeant?”

“We don’t know the full context of the aliens’ hostilities. What if this sets off something bigger than what we can handle? I wouldn’t want this to set off some decade-long conflict.”

“Neither would I,” Grigori sighed, letting his gaze drop clean through the floor. “I was considering resigning my commission after this mission. I’m finally at the point where I can say I’m spent.”

* * *

**Turian Battle Cruiser _Quimus_ / Citadel Station docks**

Captain Tiberdos didn’t think she would have ambassadors and translators on her bridge. She was unfamiliar with the procedure for first contact encounters and wasn’t comfortable with having this many politicians onboard. Other than that, she couldn’t have cared less about what the new aliens were like unless they were overtly hostile. It was beyond her paygrade. One of the translators was a salarian named Yurlaw Aezor. “Is everything set, doctor?”

“Almost. We’re still setting up some equipment. Got a few other colleagues still bringing final notes.” He barely took breaths between sentences and the words lightly blurred together.

“What’s SOP for something like this?”

“Meet on a planetary surface if possible. Dock if they’re aboard station or vessel. Telecommunications if all else fails.”

“And I assume you still need my ship for the guns?”

“If negotiations completely fail. We’ll never know if this ends up being like the rachni or krogan unless we verify.”

That she could agree with. However, she internally hoped that some standing would be set with this new race. The last thing she needed was to have the Primarch breathing down her cowl for just being involved in a catastrophic first contact. “How long till all your colleagues are aboard?”

“Less than half an hour.”

“Tell them to hurry. I’ll be checking in with our ambassadorial delegate and then we’re shipping out. I don’t want to drag this on for longer than we have to.”

* * *

**Excalibur Class Cruiser _New Mexico_ / Utopia / Va-dfar Cluster**

Terry had been sitting in the barracks, gripping the barrel of his rifle, and tapping his foot against the ground. There was plenty else he could’ve been keeping himself occupied with that would’ve been much more productive, but it wouldn’t have done much to stem the tide of anticipation eating at the back of his mind. He still stood by his concerns from earlier that dropping bombs on the aliens would draw the unwanted attention of whatever else lingers in the galaxy. Until whatever other ugly strain of non-human life crawled out of the shadows to get their own hits, it wasn’t exactly clear how badly the fallout of this operation would be.

This did not dissuade the notion that the aliens they were intending on laying low did nothing to deserve it. The Commonwealth had done nothing of note to gain the ire of these aliens. At its core, today’s mission was meant to discourage the aliens from attacking any further in the future. A flex of firepower. No doubt the aliens weren’t all home at the same time, so this would effectively be a warning shot. A warning shot that would leave millions turned to ash, but the message would’ve been passed along.

The ground underneath him quaked as the ship exited FTL. He stood and made for the bridge, figuring he should at the very least remain at his station. The hallways were surprisingly busy with personnel running up and down to various posts throughout the ship. The bridge was the same with several voices overlapping like it was a forum. Center stage of it all was the holographic projection of the alien system they’d arrived in. “We’ll be in orbit in another hour, sir. And we’ll start scanning and deploy our payload in another half hour.”

The colonel didn’t bother turning his head. “Good. Ask the other frigates for their status and tell the pilots to get ready to scramble in case they move anything to intercept us.” The other officer strolled off to the telecommunications array in silence.

Terrence decided to stand on the bridge, admiring as the stars drifted by. He wanted to see the world firsthand before they started nuking the surface. If the planet was as beautiful as intel indicated it was, he’d almost hate to see it burn. It had been an hour of pure inaction as he watched the planet take shape and bloom into view. The planet’s exterior was mostly blue with specs of green and whisps of its atmosphere obscuring much of the surface view. “Colonel, a more personal question.”

He’d walked up to the elder man, only then realizing how uncomfortable he looked. “What is it, sergeant?”

“What did Earth look like from orbit? Is this comparable?”

He started with a light snicker. “Earth was a little worse for wear when I last saw her. She was pretty, but our impact on our own environment had taken a toll. This looks more like how she was a century ago. Blue, pristine, and… the word’s not coming to my mind right now.”

“Something wrong?”

“I’d rather not think we’re bombing home. Earth’s too precious and this one’s no different. Now stop talking about Earth lest I change my mind about this operation.”

* * *

**Captain Dralo Cesdaral’s household / Ya’Bara / Utopia / Va-dfar Cluster**

Dralo had been eyeing his datapad with concern. Only an hour before, he’d been purchasing new stock for his slaver crew before the next deployment. His crew’s latest findings had proven a much harder catch than anticipated. They were fighters, and those that they did capture were then intercepted by Citadel patrols. Now the relay beacons were sending messages about new ships inbound. Their IFFs gave no indication of origin he recognized and had quickly closed the distance with Ya’Bara.

A drell slave walked up behind him on the household balcony with a cup of tea in her hands. “Good. Now get back to the garden.” The outsides of most of the housing on Ya’Bara was the same as most batarian architecture; heavily industrial with little effort put into making the outside pleasant. That effort was conserved for the household interiors. Looking inside of Dralo’s house, one would be greeted with lacquered wooden flooring, carpets made from animals of the hunt, ornate decoration with many precious metals, furniture hewn from the most exotic woods, and wallpaper indicative of caste. This wasn’t consistent across all castes and only the higher castes would have access to most of what he had on display.

Taking a sip, he scrolled over to his messages. The other crews were getting nervous and had started to scramble fighters. He felt initially that the ship wasn’t going to attack, but his opinion had been quickly swayed. He should do the same before it’s too late. _‘What’s the trouble captain?’_

“There are four unidentified ships in orbit above us. A cruiser and three frigates. Harass them.”

_‘Consider it done, captain. They’ll fe-’_ The call suddenly dropped completely with nothing else coming through except the steady whine of static.

The sudden cut of connection created a gnawing sense of fear in the pit of his stomach. He turned inside and rushed for his personal armory when something outside lit up brighter than the local sun, throwing him across the floor and shattering the windows throughout the house. Cesdaral screamed in agony. Blinding light continued to flood the room and everything around him felt like it was burning. He didn’t dare open his eyes, feeling like hot coals had been pressed against all four of them. The shockwave from the detonation crashed through like the wave of a tsunami, sweeping him and his house away in a flurry of fire.

* * *

**Turian Battle Cruiser _Quimus_ / en route to the Mani Cluster**

They had been a couple days into transit. Even with the prothean’s relay network, it still took days at a time to get from one side of the galaxy to the next. For all they knew, chaos had already befallen the new species and they’d be just happening upon the ashen remains of whatever temporary civilization they led. Then the translators would want to land and document their findings. It would be a nice distraction from her typical duties, but the anticipated number of days she’d spend waiting for the crews to pour over the ruins was more than she would’ve liked.

“Helmsman, how much longer until our arrival?”

“Less than a minute, ma’am.”

Behind her, Dr. Aezor and an entourage of other translators appeared off the lift and walked to her. “Are we there yet?”

“We’ll be exiting soon enough. Are you sure you’re equipped to start translating?”

“These are methods that have been refined over centuries. They will work.”

“They better.” The stars finally came into focus surrounding the ship. She approached the navigation display overlooking much of the bridge area and tapped a few keys. The display of the local system came into view. “Start deep-scanning the system. Let’s find these people.”

“Captain, we’ve picked up a small number of vessels moving away from us. Looks like they just exited the relay as well.”

“Their IFFs?”

“Unidentified, ma’am.” The officer put up a projection of the alien vessels on the galaxy display in front of the captain. The alien vessels were arrow-shaped with a more pointed front with the thrusters’ side of the ship widening out significantly. The smaller ships were of a similar design, albeit with much less complexity.

“Excellent timing. Hail them, see if we can establish a connection. I want all hands on standby in case they’re not into talking.” She hiked a brow-plate and glanced behind her. “This is your moment you’ve been waiting for, doctor. You better know what you’re doing.”

* * *

**Excalibur Class Cruiser _New Mexico_ / Mani Cluster**

He remained on the bridge, watching as each payload met its target on the planet surface below. Each one created a brief flash brighter than a sun before ballooning outward to form a small disk of distant fire concentrated over the small piece of terrain. Clouds would evaporate within the vicinity of each detonation to form a small pocket around each circle. A bag of mixed feelings had generated in his stomach, gurgling like a pot of boiling water. Vertigo and numbness kicked in and he felt like the dark matter gravity generators had suddenly gone offline.

Whatever Terrence had been feeling, it looked to effect Grigori much worse. Regret was etched deep into the colonel’s face. He simply stood there unmoving as each warhead detonated. The thousand-yard stare didn’t leave his face after they left orbit either. He was too scared to approach the colonel, finding his reaction too fascinating to interrupt. Just what was he thinking in that moment? “Take us out of here. We’ve done what we came to do.”

No alien vessels gave chase in the immediate aftermath. Not that they stuck around long enough to find out if they would. Chances were the aliens didn’t have a chance to squawk what was happening to any other pockets of alien battle groups to come to their aid. No use fretting over the dead.

It was an eventuality. The aliens hadn’t made any demands prior to the nuclear strike. No sign of what their endgame was. From what little they knew it was just going to be an endless conflict until one or the other disintegrated. The act should at the very least bring the aliens to a standstill. If they weren’t afraid to wage combat, then their ability to do so should at the very least be significantly hindered. “Captain, we’ve got new signatures. They just exited the relay behind us.”

Colonel Morozov’s expression finally shifted from guilt to concern as he strolled to the station. “What now?”

“New vessels. Not like the other alien race. Only a couple.”

“Are we in their range?”

“Hard to tell, sir. They-”

“Colonel, they’re hailing us,” the officer at the telecommunications terminal interrupted. “Should I make the connection?”

“Put them through. Let’s see what they have to say.”

The crackle in static gave way to a different voice than what the bat-like aliens had spoken in. Terry and the other officers who did receive the translators came close to listen. The voice reverberated like an echo in an empty concrete hallway or one voice being layered on top of another. _‘This is Captain Tiberdos of the Turian Battle Cruiser_ Quimus _with an ambassadorial attachment_ _asking the unidentified alien vessel to verify they can hear us. Please respond.’_

Morozov hadn’t received any translator and the aliens’ words. “What did they say?”

“They’re hear with peaceful intentions by the sounds of things.”

His eyes lit up. He flipped the switch to start transmitting. “This is Colonel Morozov aboard the _New Mexico_. Can you hear us? Are you here to attack us?”

_‘Please stand by. We’re still working to translate your language. This will take us some time.’_

Morozov looked back to the other officer. “They say they can’t understand us yet.”

“We can understand _you._ We’ll willingly offer assistance for the transla-”

_‘We’ll call you back once we’re ready to speak. Out.’_

The transmission cut out afterwards. Grigori stood upward and sighed in relief. They were at least not to be shot out of the sky. But there was still the potential powder keg that was the nuclear remains of the other alien race. He reached for an unoccupied chair and took a seat, waiting in uncomfortable anticipation of the alien’s answer.


	9. Life Elsewhere

_Our brief fight with the Batarian Hegemony had been for all intents and purposes concluded. What resulted was a permanent border conflict that would continue to stand. We’re too far from each other to really be on the cusp of outright war, but they’re still too close for comfort. What does bring some comfort is the notion that the batarians are just filthy troublemakers looking to take a bigger bite than they can afford._

* * *

**March 10, 2073**

**Council Chambers / The Citadel / Widow / Serpent Nebula**

“And I admit it was a gamble. What matters is that it paid off.” Councilor Opticus had been continuously working over the course of the past few days to make proper amends between the two factions. The situation between the terrans and batarians was less than ideal. Rendering Ya’Bara completely unfeasible as a batarian colony wasn’t going to go unnoticed by the Hegemony.

There were tighter treaties that had to be worked out before with the batarians. It was merely a matter of arguing that the Commonwealth acted out of self-defense. The Hegemony didn’t have the leverage to do anything other than agree. The batarian people were belligerent, either directly causing political crises or indirectly through their state-financed slaver and pirate gangs. Outside of the batarian’s knowledge, the Hierarchy did loosely promise to throw in with the terrans should all-out war break out. It was an extra bit of leverage over the terrans on top of negotiating the cease-fire.

Councilor Alorna scowled. “It’s not important that your game worked. What matters is that you weren’t exactly transparent about this.”

“We were considering putting this off until it would’ve been far too late. By the time the Primarch’s detachment of ambassadors arrived, they’d just committed an act that would’ve cascaded into war. It would’ve taken us years to arrange a peace, not to mention the potential fallout. This is by far the best possible outcome with what has happened this far.”

She leaned back in her seat with a defeated sigh. “And what say you, Tevos?”

The asari Councilor had remained silent for much of the conversation. It wasn’t a topic she’d openly discussed with the others, but a certain distrust of this new race had already begun to set it. ‘Synthetic life’ was a term more directly applied to artificial intelligences, with some simulation of organic functions. This was different. Biomodification wasn’t a new concept, but to have done so to this extent was unheard of; even by quarian standards. What it wasn’t was the rise of synthetic life as frequently discussed among circles of futurists.

Futurists defined this supposed rise as the ability of synthetic life to eventually develop an equivalent to evolution so rapid it would outpace organics’ abilities to adapt or understand. Then there was the rare cult who believed there would be a day and age where synthesis would pave the road to some form of simulated immortality. Perhaps this was the terrans’ endgame. It was evident enough from autopsies performed on their dead found aboard slaver ships that this was only some early form of their development. Others had developed much more rapidly and there was little to base any future projections on.

“Tevos?”

She deeply inhaled and looked up from her datapad. “For now, I agree that this was the best outcome. How they will act in a few decades or a century is much more concerning. I have several hypothetical questions about classification, laws, colonization rights, military action, and their technological discoveries.”

“They’re less than ten million in total population,” Opticus argued. “What is the worst that could happen?”

“I suppose you’re right.” Tevos looked back at her datapad, continuously looking at the transcripts of the conversations that had occurred between the terrans and the salarian translators. Her biggest worry was how this would all affect the status quo.

* * *

**Tayseri Ward / The Citadel**

The initial walk along the sidewalk was almost too much for Andrew. The day before, he’d still been conducting research on materials gathered from fallen batarian ships. He couldn’t believe there existed a space station this big. On the ride in, it looked like five long strips attached to a single ring at the base of each. Upon closer inspection, each strip had space to hold entire cities with varying skylines. Looming overhead was a collection of fleets from various species. “I should’ve brought a camera.”

His son was similarly caught up in the sight of the station. Between the two of them, there were simply no words that could put the scene before them to justice. When they landed, the two were greeted with a similarly evocative sight of a menagerie of non-human species, going about their various walks of life no differently than any human would. This was where their trains of thought split from the other’s, becoming more evocative of their distinct lives.

Andrew beheld a sense of wonder. All the species had been space-faring much longer than mankind had and he wondered what history brought them to this moment in time. No doubt there was a tapestry of history behind the turian’s facial markings or the salarian’s inclination towards the exploration of technology and science. How would their stories run parallel to their own? He internally decided that he would spend his retirement reading up the histories and cultures of these races to their fullest.

Terry was much more suspicious in his thought process. Unlike his father, his fight or flight response was allowed to run rampant. The old colonel had taught him to fight other human beings. It was an art that had been refined for the better part of millennia and following this art was as instinctual and easy as hunting any other animal from Earth’s old animal kingdom. The presence of new equally sentient species was a silent challenge. No longer was he necessarily among the top of the food chain; and doubt each race had their own collection of bad eggs as well as their individual rules of engagement, strengths, counters, and thoughts. At some point, he would find instances where they would be shooting back, and he especially felt vulnerable now that he was out of his armor.

The turians were the most directly comparable to mankind. Their social structure, military, dialects and subcultures, and politics were strikingly similar to either current or ancient human norms. What did set them apart was their avian and reptilian nature. The hardened carapace was similar to that of a turtles’, but the appendages, face, and fringe resembled a bird stretched into more humanoid proportions. They stood a few inches taller than the average human and would no doubt be a fighting equivalent.

Asari were strangely the most human-looking. They were a female-exclusive race with the bodily proportions of human women, albeit with skin of varying shades of blue-green, and tendrils for hair. They lived to be centuries old and had naturally evolved with biotics unlike all other races. Reproduction was strange, as they could reproduce with any other race, resulting in exclusively asari children. Something about them just whispered of secrets and something hidden.

The lizard-like salarians, like the turians, reminded him of an Earth species rebuilt as a humanoid. The salamander-like aliens came in a variety of tones and shades and had distinct horns that extended from the top of their head. Exclusive among the other races was their significantly shorter lifespan, dictating much in the way of their relationships, business, and politics. They were on average much smatter than other races and were disproportionately either scientists or businessmen.

And there was still a collection of other races that, though not as common, still made up a considerable portion of the station’s population. The krogan were another bipedal reptilian race, but there wasn’t any singular species that he could compare them to. The crest upon their heads did resemble the front of a nautilus, were significantly taller and bulkier on average, and shared a similar lifespan to the asari. Due to some ill history millennia ago, they were infected with a genetic disease that caused miscarriages to plague their population heavily. Most of the time, they were either mercenaries or security, which proved to be the most concerning.

Quarians were even rarer. They were scarcely seen on the Citadel, tending to stick to their Flotilla of nomadic ships. Each one constantly wore an environmental suit with ornate fabrics on the exterior, a hood, and an opaque visor over their face. After experimenting too heavily with a collection of virtual intelligence servants, they had unwittingly created a race of AI known as the geth. In their panic, war broke out and the quarians were ultimately booted from their home system, forcing them to live their lives among themselves and become technicians and scavengers. Their already weak immune systems had been further reduced by centuries of living in sterile ship environments, forcing them to work and live constantly wearing their suits. Technically, they were the least suspicious, but he told himself to keep his guard up all the same.

And there were still more species he hadn’t researched deeply yet. Vorcha, the batarians they clashed with, elcor, and a few others whose names he couldn’t be bothered to currently remember. Andrew simply dismissed his suspicions as a product of his upbringing. “You were taught to be a fighter,” he’d told him on the flight to the Citadel. “I wish I had directed you to become otherwise, but it is what it is. You need to be generous and let them prove themselves in good faith.” And maybe he would. As far as Terry could tell, this was the galaxy as it was and the one that would push his shit in at the drop of a hat if he didn’t play it cautiously.

The streets were the typical affair of various utilities and commodities from food and clothes shops to banks repair shops. His first goal was to head into a tool shop and buy an omnitool for himself. It was a gauntlet of barely invisible wires that glued to the user’s skin and would project a transparent orange gauntlet onto his forearm when it was used. It filled the need of a smart phone with all the telecommunication capabilities and other utilities that one would want for random needs, like a calculator, a reminder system, and financial management. He was still getting used to it and the device would flicker in and out during moments when he wasn’t intending to use it.

Down the sidewalk a little further was another hologram projector planted right next to a map of the nearby blocks. From the projection base was a loose interpretation of an asari. “Greetings. My name is Avina. How may I be of service today?”

Andrew spoke up first. “Ah yes! What attractions would you recommend first-time visitors?”

“I can provide a list of various attractions and their locations on the station. Would you like to know more?”

“Just let me install the map. We’ll learn from there.” The older doctor pulled up the map on his datapad and rushed off. “Let’s go find a taxi, Terrence.”

His gaze snapped back and forth between the hologram and his father. “Dad, hold up. Shouldn’t we get a proper recommendation first?”

Andrew ignored his complaints and found an automatic taxi at the edge of the sidewalk. Hovercars continued to fascinate him and he lifted the door open in fascination. “You’re on leave for a few days. _I_ checked. I haven’t had much time to talk with you these past few years and I wanted to explore. Just appease your old man for a day?”

Truth be told, the sights were interesting. The two glossed over as much as they could in the span of the remaining day that had been given to them. Concert halls, art displays, memorials, and brief glimpses at museums had populated their day together. It was also fascinating to look over the dense urban terrain of different architecture, different economic levels, and lighting on display. Admittedly it had been fun peering into the cultural zoo on display. The only thing that dragged the experience down was his dad trying to turn it all into some lesson.

“Dad, I’m not xenophobic. I’m just cautious.”

“Cautious about what? From what I’ve seen they’re no different to us. They’ve all got interests, personalities, and aspirations just like ourselves. The fact they’re non-human serves little as a barrier for that difference.”

“And we still have to be cautious of strangers. I get all that.”

“Just shut up and listen,” his father huffed with that distinct lecturing tone. “These are all people you’ll have to work with and live now. They’re like you and I.”

“I’m not exactly working alongside these people, dad. I’m still in the Commonwealth military.”

“And when you want to leave?”

“And do what?”

His father gave him an incredulous look. “Don’t you even have aspirations beyond shooting thresher maws and batarians?”

“It hasn’t crossed my mind recently. I’ve been rather distracted,” Terry admitted.

“Well, that’s fair. Still, it’s your own life to lead. Settle down, start a family. Look to the future. You could still be a doctor outside of the military,” Andrew shrugged, his expression softening. “Make something of your own.” The cab finally dropped them off at the docks close to where the other terran vessels had parked. “At any rate, I’m done for the day.”

They stepped out and reentered the stream of pedestrians. He’d been following his father close behind when his gaze caught on a real-estate office. The window had several screens displaying slides of apartment interiors. “Uh… dad? You can head back to the ship. I wanted to have a look at something.”

* * *

The asari realtor unlocked the door and led him inside, hitting the light switches on the way in. “This is a nice home ideal for a small family. It’s medium sized, has two floors, three bathrooms, a laundry room, a walking closet, and bedrooms to match. Is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“Just forward me the pamphlet with all the apartment specs.” He looked around the room with his hands in his pockets. The floor and baseboards were a sleek dark wood with light gray concrete walls. The bathrooms and kitchen were lined with white tiles on the floor but otherwise unchanged. The windows in the living room gave an expansive view of the nearby blocks and were fitted with a balcony leading outward. The lamps installed in the ceiling gave a warm, yellow glow that gave the room a natural pleasant feeling.

“What do you think?”

“Can I take some images of the place?”

“Go ahead.”

He thought back to the heated conversation he had with his dad earlier that day on the way back to the docks as he took a video recording of the place. Of life beyond what the Commonwealth had to offer. The Citadel was large and finding a medical occupation couldn’t be that hard. And after the mess with the Hegemony, settling down wasn’t out of his mind entirely. He would want nothing more than to put down the rifle and call it good. But then more questions followed about what would come next.

Terry and Alice had been dancing around each other for years now. Nothing serious for the time being, but the feelings for each other were certainly there. She had similarly expressed feelings of exhaustion and desire to do anything else beyond the service. Maybe it would be a good opportunity to start asking. It was a bit soon, but nothing he didn’t see himself doing in another decade or so. They had plenty of time to decide. Leaning against the island in the kitchen, he began to upload the video he took on a message to Alice and scrawled out, “Found a nice place on the Citadel. What do you think?” before tapping send on his omnitool.


	10. Our Public Duty

_The turians are alright, as far as the non-human species go. They’re cooperative, coordinated, and have some strange comradery among them. It’s somewhat odd how they run their crews prior to a mission, but I’m not exactly in a position to cast any judgement. For a while now, we’ve been working together in several joint operations for various situations. Feels more like law enforcement on a grander scale than warfare, but it is a nice alternative._

* * *

**July 3rd, 2076**

**Turian Frigate _Courage_ Cargo Bay, en route to Korlus / Imir System / Eagle Nebula**

Towards the other end of the hanger, a large group of turians and humans watched a small sparring match between a couple other turian soldiers. The practice somewhat perplexed Terrence, as he found believed it would leave soldiers underprepared for a mission with injuries and exhaustion one wouldn’t need. It had been a cultural practice among turians to defuse personal gripes between crewmates and get any angst out of one’s mind.

Well, that and getting it on in the sheets. Sex was an interestingly open topic among turians and similar activities were permitted among crewmates as well, so long as it was consensual, clean, and in relative privacy of the bunks. Contraceptives and other preventatives were as such provided in plenty among crews for the necessary occasions to prevent unwanted complications. Talk of biology didn’t bother him so much as the prospect that one could be so open to discussion about it.

He’d been on the other end of the hanger area cleaning his rifle. Since the introduction to the other races, the Commonwealth had rushed for similar ammo standards to what the rest of the galaxy deployed for better ammo management in the field, quickly ditching the ammo system they had for only a little over a decade. The ammo being fired was composed of an infinitely smaller, composing of slivers ripped from a solid metal block in the weapon and accelerated to lethal velocities using the mass effect technology that powered much in the galaxy. His main gripe had been that metal slivers were harder to yank from wounds before cleaning and sealing.

The limitation of how many rounds could then be fired was the weapon rapidly overheating, causing heat to be siphoned off into ‘thermal clips.’ Like expended magazines, the thermal clip would be disposed of upon complete use to prevent weapon malfunctions. The magazine of his rifle was now dedicated to feeding thermal clips into the gun. The charging handle still loaded the first thermal clip and the mag release would press the next one forward after the expended thermal clip had been cycled out upon the last usable round.

“You run an incredibly tight crew, sergeant.” Veraponia Barrinus was the squad leader onboard the ship. Her faceplates were pale with dark green lines streaking them in an intricated display. They’d only been fighting alongside for a couple missions now and hadn’t gotten to know each other too extensively.

He looked up from his rifle. “Yeah?”

“I know it’s different between species, but I think your subordinates would find sparring a good pastime between locations.”

Almost on que, he looked back to the ring of cheering teammates as their cries grew louder. “Traditionally, humans aren’t as robust and healed much slower. Any injuries gained here could’ve risked mission performance. Even with me along, I’d rather not spend more time than I have to patching over unnecessary bruises.”

“And your team’s moral would be all the better for it.”

He pursed his lips, silently taking into consideration the proposition. “I suppose you’re right. We don’t hold grudges like you do, but the troops could use the CQC practice. Anyways, what can you tell me about our current mission?”

“We’re on our way to Korlus, an absolutely impoverished, polluted scrapheap of a backwater planet. The protheans left a fair bit before their extinction and anything new from them is a commodity. It ranges from the innocuous to the incredibly destructive. The black market thrives on this sort of thing and we’ll be spending the next couple months on a light campaign uprooting one small detachment of it.”

“How much bigger is this greater whole?”

“It spans much of the known galaxy. It thrives the most in the Terminus Systems, but it has no shortage of tendrils in civilized space. The Council wouldn’t tell you, but there is a large underground even on the Citadel for ancient goods that generates billions of credits per year. And people have a tendency of getting caught in the crossfire.”

“I see. What are we expecting from the hostiles?”

“Eclipse mostly. A gang formed from mostly asari and salarians. Doesn’t mean we shouldn’t expect other races thrown in as well.”

“Tangled with any in the past?”

“I have. They’ve trained their biotics well.”

“It’s a risk we can take.”

* * *

Both squads were deployed to a large shantytown. Much of the landscape of the planet was either endless scrapyards or uneven mountainous terrain. The buildings themselves were either formed in the husks of dead ships and airlocks or hobbled together from various panels and scrap. The garb of the common citizen was either low-grade merc armor, light manufacturing suits, or rags. What little they did have for water was a public watering hole in the town square.

Barrinus took point with her own squad, leading them to a warehouse by the edge of town. “Target building up ahead. We’ll head around back and wait on your entry.”

“You got it. Carol, let’s do some light remodeling with the doorframe.”

“Copy that, boss. Setting up the thermite.”

“Barrinus, do you have eyes on the inside of the warehouse?”

_‘Almost caught their attention, but we’re good now. Looks like they’ve got guests. I’m surprised they’re dealing with Blood Pack.’_

Terrence and the others entered breaching positions just outside of the door. “Who are the Blood Pack running with?”

_‘Bunch of vorcha, a couple of turians, and three krogan. All tough customers. Be careful. Waiting on you.’_

“You got it. Hit it Carol.” The thermite ignited and burned a hole clean through the door. Terrence tossed in a concussion grenade and pushed a moment after its audible detonation. He led in with a biotic barrier, feeling the pelt of bullets against the transparent wall. Barrinus’ squad entered through an office overlooking the warehouse. The others behind him rushed to cover behind several crates inside, giving him the opportunity to swap back to his rifle and drop the barrier.

He didn’t have an opportunity to reach cover when he was tossed to the side by an unseen biotic. Left out of cover, his shields were quickly whittled down, with the shield battery indicated flickering red. The shields broke shortly after and he narrowly reached cover, feeling the tug of impact on his armor. _‘Taking heavy fire up here!’_

The office windows had been completely shattered and the lower wall had been perforated. The gang members were continuing to focus fire on the office and were starting to push up the stairs to retake the area. With his shields starting to recharge, he peaked from cover and laid down additional suppressing fire. He narrowly avoided another discharge of biotic energy, watching as the ball shattered a pillar behind him. After a brief pause, he retaliated with a biotic throw, tossing around a large cluster of loose crates and gang members.

Leaping from cover, he tossed a few grenades in to soften their shields and quickly finishes each off with the rest of his clip. Getting back to his feet, one of the krogan enforcers rushed him, knocking a few other terran troops on its way like bowling pins. Too late did Terrence sidestep the krogan’s charge, pinning him to the wall. The krogan wrapped his hand around his neck and rammed the other into his side repeatedly, breaking his shields and putting stabbing pain into his side and ribs. Desperately, Terry retaliated by shoving a biotic discharge into the wall behind him, throwing the krogan back a short distance. He quickly tackled the gang member before he could climb back to his feet and lodged his blade into its eye.

The krogan yelped with pain and tossed him a meter to the side and reached for the knife to yank it out. With his feet still facing the krogan, Terry lifted a foot and stomped down on the knife hilt, driving it further into the krogan’s head, killing it instantly. He shakily stood back up, retrieved his rifle, and rejoined the fighting with hand pressed to his side. Under his armor, he could feel the pained buzz of nanites sewing together damaged tissue.

Another Eclipse asari soldier had put up an opposing barrier, absorbing the gradually overwhelming fire of both encroaching forces. “Boss, that shield isn’t going down and I’m running low on ammo trying to wear that bitch down.”

His eyes flicked back and forth for solutions. He didn’t recognize half of the prothean tech now lying in tatters around the room and if it could even be used. The crate they huddled behind was a little taller than either of them, giving him a difficult idea. “Take my extra magazine and start planting explosive charges on this side of the crate.”

She eyed the magazine and side of the box, slowly following his train of thought. “You’re crazy.”

“We don’t have any heavy weapons on hand and I’m not trained to sort through prothean tech. Start planting.” Carol complied and stuck a bunch of explosive packages to the side of the crate. The two pushed the side of the crate to rotate it around where the explosives faced the Eclipse barrier. Terry formed another burst of biotic energy and tossed the crate at the group with as much physical force as he could. The initial hit broke the barrier and the subsequent detonation killed the cluster of Eclipse mercenaries, either tossing them with lethal force or tearing them clean apart, leaving a pile of broken yellow armor and colored refuse based on the species.

The last krogan jumped from cover, unloading his shotgun into the two. Terrence’s shields were overwhelmed with the entire magazine, forcing him to hide behind another crate. Peaking around the corner, another shotgun blast grazed the corner and cracked the upper corner of his visor. The gang member quickly closed the distance and took a large swing at him with the grip of his shotgun. The fight quickly turned into backing up around the crate and avoiding the raging krogan like an aggressive game of ring around the rosie. Desperately, he cooked and dropped a grenade and coated the outside of his armor with a thin layer of nanties.

The explosion knocked both down both individuals and shattered the box. Pushing himself off the ground, Terrence noticed the shotgun had been dropped on the ground, equidistant between himself and the downed krogan. Both raced for the gun and continued to fight over the weapon, rolling across the floor and kicking at the other. The bigger mercenary had comparable strength to his own and was starting to push the barrel towards him. Another gun fired, grazing the krogan’s shoulder, buying Terry precious seconds to press the gun the other way and pull the trigger.

The krogan’s face tore in half, spraying more orange blood. The jaw hung slack off what was left of the face and the eye of the damaged half hung loosely by the nerve. He shoved the corpse off and saw Carol and Veraponia come to his aid, helping him back to his feet.

* * *

**Turian Frigate _Courage_ medbay, in orbit over Korlus**

A shuttle carted the injured and dead back to the ship after the mission. For all intents and purposes, the mission had been a relative success. The mission saw most of the prothean tech being exchanged damaged or destroyed, but it was a preferrable alternative to seeing the weapons continue to circulate in the black market. Additional information on the smuggling operation had been gathered from the office where the turians had entered from. 

The medbay was only half-full of both turian and terrans alike. He’d been a fair bit too busy being thrown around to maintain the crew in the moment of the combat and had to bring everyone back to the safety of the ship first. Turians were noticeably much slower to treat. It wasn’t so much a result of the dextro-based anatomy as it was how the cooperation between nanite and natural tissue was one sided. Under the current circumstance, the turians bodies weren’t used to the foreign technology and while nanites could still replace damaged tissue, they would still require close to the full amount of time needed to recover compared to the faster recovery time of the terran troopers.

Veraponia entered the medbay behind him. “I have to say, sergeant. For a field medic, you do a lot more killing than healing. At least in the field.”

Terrence turned to look with a frown. Turians had much more limited facial emotions in favor of the dual-toned voices to impose emotional expression that other races did. Whether she meant to insult or complement wasn’t clear. “It’s a two-faced practice. While I do have to look after my patients, I do have to ensure they don’t get hurt in the first place. Gunning down the opposition is one such option.”

“I’m just saying you fight with focus and a certain desperation I haven’t seen much of. You’re nothing short of a hunter.”

He turned and crossed his own arms and leaned against one of the medical beds. “I’m a raven drawn to carrion. Have to find the dead if I’m to save the dying.”

“I’m sorry, what’s a raven?”

“It’s a type of bird. Small, winged creatures back on the lost homeworld of Earth of various shapes and sizes. We had some saved specimens back on Midgard during the early days as a colony. They actually look somewhat like turians, strangely enough.”

Her mandibles flickered in response. “Interesting. How are you holding up after the fight?”

“Still a bit busy. I’m still a little worse for wear, but I heal quickly.”

“Say, you interested in a little sparing match afterwards? I’m a little more pent up after the raid.”

“I’m good,” he refused.

“You sure? Not even the tiebreaker?” Her eyes briefly flicked to the bed he’d been leaning on.

Terry hesitated to respond initially. He’d forgotten that turians played with the idea of sex and hoped his facial expression didn’t yield anything. “I thought you turians had tiers and stuff to worry about. Doesn't interspecies relationships undermine that?”

“I'm of a lower tier. Doesn't bother me."

"I know it's just a fling, but I already had plans."

Her gaze tilted to the ground in disappointment. "Just let me know if you’re freed up, _raven_.” She turned for the door, leaving him back to his own devices.


	11. Seeds of Poison

_Dad won’t be around for much longer. He’s developed a particularly bad case of Leukemia and he refuses on principal to have it properly treated. Despite my attempts to convince him otherwise, he says it’s only ‘natural’ he expires when he does and that it would be selfish to try and delay it any longer. He also claims it only would’ve given him another few years at most. But I’ve done all I can to talk him into it. My next leave, I’ll head home and make sure he’s comfortable._

* * *

**Aug 11, 2079**

**Civilian transport ship, orbit over Midgard**

Andrew would have loved nothing more than to return to Earth for his final days, but that was still an option that was no longer on the cards. The old human homeworld continued to be a figment of memory and would continue to be so as more of the older population passed on. Instead, he desired a wide view of the Midgard to reminisce on what they had done with the once barren world. While he wasn’t the project head back in the day, he wanted something to reminisce on. Something he contributed to. “You can stop messing with my notes now.”

“You left them in a mixed pile,” Terrence shrugged, continuing to shuffle his pile of books into a more comprehensible order. Over the past few years of his dwindling health, Andrew continued to read through piles of non-human history and culture, gathering books on a sizeable shelf in his room. Other than that, the doctors saw to it the old man was treated well with a large bed, warm meals and water, and nothing short of material to entertain himself with.

“Never mind my messes. You can fix that later. For now, I just wanted to tell you a few more things.”

He flicked his gaze back at the man and pulled the chair away from the desk in front of the bed. Andrew had a couple of drips still attached to him by his bedside. “You have my full attention.”

“Just don’t take anything I say in the wrong direction, alright? I care for you. I’m worried about your continued career path, but I ultimately blame Grigori and myself for that.”

“Yeah, we’ve been over this. I agree and I’ve taken steps to eventually give myself and Noel an out. I just want to do this for maybe a couple more years and then call it quits.”

“And that’s good, but ultimately do what you feel like will give you happiness. At least… so long as it’s not hurting others.”

Terry leaned back in his seat in mild irritation, leaning his head back so that his gaze was straight at the ceiling. “I get it. You assumed the worst of me and I’m honestly taking great umbrage at that. I don’t see what would even push me to something like the slavery market or something. It’s ridiculous that you assume that I would ever turn into such a person. Never have I given you any sort of pretext that I would turn into a Terminus warlord, dad.”

It took him longer than expected to respond.

“Dad?”

* * *

**April 25, 2081**

**Tevos’ office, Citadel Tower / Widow / Serpent Nebula**

It was coming close to a decade since first contact with the Terran Commonwealth.

Above all else, Tevos was on the Inner Circle of Matriarchs. It was a tight knit organization that oversaw the continued prosperity of the Asari Republics and any threats that may be posed against it. They conducted their means as remotely as possible and were responsible for the culling of cults, the manipulation or assassination of key politicians, and in some cases the very course of history as it was. It was the layer upon which many of the asari governmental entities connected on and cooperated through.

The arrival of the terrans had been closely watched for some time now and with eager eyes. It made much of the Inner Circle nervous, especially with their increasing friendship with the Hierarchy. There was some concern that the terran military – while dwarfed by most others currently fielded – would act as an effective foil to the asari commandos, sporting an exceptional resilience, adaptability, and reaction time in the field. In the circumstances of war with the Hierarchy, there was no guarantee that the greater firepower of asari capital ships and troop trade-off would provide easy victory.

“It’s clear we need some obvious counter to this increasing threat. Some obvious weakness,” Tevos agreed.

The others at the meeting were little more than distorted voices behind blank profile pictures to avoid doxing under the circumstances of compromised connections. _‘They’re still synthetic in nature. Electromagnetic radiation could do them in just as easily.’_

_‘Munitions of such nature would still pose a threat to commandos all the same. This is not a solution.’_

_‘And what of the Hierarchy’s findings? Did they dispose any notes they had from First Contact?’_

_‘They have not. Unfortunately, they’ve been impartial about keeping these secrets. Further incursions on our part to secure such insights have been unsuccessful and continued action could see eventual war break out.’_

“And the slave trade?” Tevos proposed.

_‘Terrans don’t have a big enough population and have avoided colonizing much further outside of their home system. Since their first conflict, batarian pirates have been unsuccessful in acquiring new slaves among their species and have since given up trying to acquire further specimen.’_

 _‘Then what_ are _our options? So far this is a commentary about how fenced off our options are.’_

_‘I would like to pose a probable solution. I’ve had my ears to the ground on my own territory and information going into terran-turian operations against the black market. I’ve heard about another recent seller for some archeological junk. It’s backfired against the sellers pretty spectacularly. No information has left the sellers’ camp since, but I’ve received reports of supposed infighting. The buyers that came by a bit later went running.’_

_‘How is this relevant?’_

_‘Whatever they found generated infighting like I’ve never seen. Some bodies littered the street just outside of their complex. It would be a matter of reverse engineering whatever happened to generate the same results among terran troops. It’s too late to keep the Hierarchy and Commonwealth out of this, but I’m sure the Council could arrange for our interception under the guise of more “professional” containment.’_

“Fine. I’ll arrange for commandos to retrieve it from them once they’ve brought it out of Terminus space. From there, they can move goods into a lab for further study and arrange a trap for the first test subjects.”

* * *

**April 26, 2081**

**Apartment Blocks / Tayseri Wards / Citadel**

“Hey! No peaking. We’re almost there.” Terry had been adamant about the secrecy of the reveal ever since they left the cab.

Alice snickered, “Jesus. It better be impressive or I’m going to be severely disappointed.” 

“Lemme just get the door… and open your eyes.” Ever since he got the initial photos of the place, Terry had begun saving his military paychecks for the apartment he found on his initial visit to the Citadel. The place was still unfurnished, and he’d been painting the walls a bright orange yellow. Painting tarps, tap, and unopened cans of paint littered the place. “I’ve been working on the place for a little while now. Once the painting is done, I was going to start moving stuff in. I already got a mattress upstairs.”

“I… wow, you actually went forward with it.” She wandered around the place, taking everything in. “It’s quite a big place.”

Her back was still turned to him, giving him the opportunity to pull an increasingly uncomfortable lump out of his pants’ pocket. “It’s in anticipation of bigger things. I got something else for you.”

He got down on a knee and pulled forward a small black box with a bright, chrome ring fitted inside. Alice’s breath trembled as she took in his silent proposal. The two had been taking swings at each other for years now and he decided to take the first step forward. “Did… did you get that here?”

“I tried looking. Rings aren’t exactly customary among non-human ornaments. Had to get it on Midgard the last time I was there.”

“I just… I don’t know what else to say.”

“Dad’s last few years left an impact and I’ve come to an agreement. I’m ready to blow this popsicle stand and start something else. What say you?”

“Of course, Terry. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Her arms wrapped over his shoulders, pressing her lips against his. Against her chin, she could feel the sharp jab of his facial hair. “What did you have planned?”

“Work a couple more missions, throw in the towel with the Commonwealth armed forces, start arranging a small, relatively private arrangement between the two of us. I got an application waiting to head out to some local medical firms after I get the papers for military resignation.”

“I’ll get mine once you leave. Fill it out over the next few days and wait for you to get back.”

“I like the sound of that plan.”

* * *

**April 30, 2081**

**Omega streets / Sahrabarik / Omega Nebula**

The stories and descriptions he heard of Omega didn’t do the miserable rock any justice. It was the physical embodiment of a cyberpunk dystopia with refineries dotting the borders of the station, skyscrapers with neon lights stretching far into the distance, junk littering the streets for sweeper bots to eventually clean up, piles of junk and abandoned vehicles along some streets, and an ugly orange haze to top it all off. He was glad he’d kept his helmet on and couldn’t help but feel like something stalked him and the rest of the squad down the labyrinth of streets. “Welcome to Omega. I’ve been here enough times, so you just stick to me and you won’t end up as parts being sold in some stinky back alley on the Citadel.”

“Right. What else should I know about this place?” Arruus Murlus was the leader of the squad Terry and his team had been rotated onto. Rotations happened roughly every couple of years between Hierarchy squads and not with a lot of justification in mind. Murlus was middle aged for a turian and had done everything from pirate counterattacks to drug busts. His plates from a distance looked to have a consistency of worn leather.

“As lawless as this place is, plenty of people live out here. Like a grimy, ugly, undermaintained mirror version of the Citadel. If you’re not careful, this place will chew you up and leave your corpse for all to see. And don’t even think about pissing off Aria.”

“I’ve heard her name dropped several times by now,” Roland interrupted. “Care to fill in her background for us?”

“Aria T’Loak was an asari Eclipse who rolled in, feigning to be a basic dancer at Afterlife roughly a century back. She eventually climbed the rank of the Patriach’s gang and overthrew the old krogan. Still keeps the old man alive as an example to any would-be opponents. Now she has this whole station to herself with an iron fist. While she doesn’t control the gangs directly, but her presence here still holds a lot of sway. In fact, she’s got eyes and ears all over the Terminus.”

Jeremy had been lingering towards the back of the pack and had been cautiously eyeing the rooftops around them. “And we’re just walking around on her turf like this without worry she could just pop us in the head or feed us to rabid varren?”

“All you really have to do is not step on T’Loak’s toes. Doesn’t stop plenty of innocent people trying to live life out here. Omega is a surprisingly quiet place away from the politics of the Citadel. Even some elders try to find some form of retirement here.”

“Can’t imagine why,” Carol sniffed. Something peered at them from down an alleyway before disappearing into the shadows.

“Anyways, heads up. Target building is just up ahead.”

Lights eerily flickered from the windows of the dozen-story tall building. Along the sidewalk outside was dashes of different colors of blood, forming small oceans of color that leaked into the drains. “Jesus, that’s a lot of blood,” Terrence cursed. “Easily enough for a few people to have bled out.”

“Then where are the bodies?” one of the turian squadmates asked.

“Looks like they were dragged back into the building,” Murlus answered, pointing to the blood trails leading back through the front door. “I don’t like this.”

“If they’re trying to clean up, they’re not doing a good job of it,” a third turian commented. “Maybe the buyers thought the price was too high?”

“We’re not learning anything standing out here,” Terry answered. “Jeremy, get into that apartment building opposite of the target building and find a balcony you can use to cover us.”

“Sir, I can’t perform recon from out here. At least judging by the exterior.”

“We at least need eyes peering in through the windows, maybe give us a heads up for whatever it is we’re walking into.”

“You got it.”

“I’ll take my squad downstairs and check the basement first,” Murlus proposed. “You take your squad upstairs. Once we’ve finished with the basement, we’ll sweep up behind you.”

“Copy. Let’s go.” The inside of the apartment complex didn’t look any better. It was obvious that this was Blood Pack territory with weapon lockers, banners, pieces of abandoned armor, and datapads insinuating the building’s inhabitants. What was more perplexing was the signs of significant struggle from the inside. “What a mess. Found anyone, Clarke?”

_‘Couple bodies. Batarian and salarian. Looks like they had a bit of a disagreement and proceeded to stab each other. The former clearly one, but not for long. Bled out a short distance later.’_

Terrence peaked around a corner, catching a glimpse of salarian with his back to him in a room. The man wasn’t talking and seemed to be focusing on something just out of view. “Contact. I got eyes on a hostile. Get ready to go loud.” He snapped his rifle around the corner and shot a round, piercing the gangster clean through the head. After the salarian dropped, his gaze noticed the krogan the salarian had been standing next to. The salarian’s green blood had splattered on the armored gangster’s face and it didn’t even so much as flinch. It continued to stare blankly into the air.

He gunned down the krogan all the same. “I’m starting to see some strange behavior from the gang members. What about you guys?”

_‘Found a trio in a little prayer circle around an asari’s head. Nasty stuff,’_ Carol replied. _‘Didn’t notice me entering and they look like they’ve been here for a couple of days.’_

_‘This is some sort of cult boss. You sure the intel wasn’t faked?’_

“Maybe. Murlus, what about you?”

_‘We found the artifact downstairs and what looks to be the vault it came in. It’s… putting out these energy pulses that’s causing this mental buzz like static in our heads. Moving to put it back into the box-’_ There was some stir in the background that only sounded like static. _‘What was that?’_

_‘Oh Spirts! What’s that?!’_

_‘Shit! Open fire! Open fire!’_

_‘It got Bulcus!’_ The rest drowned out in screams and gunfire.

“Hell. Double-time it down to the basement, guys. They’re in trouble down there.”

Jeremy buzzed in. _‘Sir! Behind all you!’_

Something ran him over from behind. He turned around sharply to find a salarian pouncing on top of him with a knife in hand. Blood coated every inch of his armor, deep gashes cut into the salarian’s face, and the eyes had this not-all-there look consistent with the other gang members. “They need your body! They need your flesh! They-”

A sniper round cut clean through the wall and drilled through the top of the salarian’s head. Terrence shoved the corpse off to the side and climbed back to his feet. “Thanks Jeremy. Keep your eyes out for more.”

He continued to rush down the stairs and met up with Carol and Roland. “What’s going on down there?!”

A turian rushed around the corner of the stairs, clutching his side. Blue blood continued to pour down his leg. “Murlus is down! We’ve got to-”

A misshapen monstrosity rammed into the poor soldier, crushing him in a blue haze against the wall. It was big and grotesque. Whomever the beast originally was had been melted down and mashed together like lobs of clay into a poorly built statue. Tendrils grew off the back of the monstrosity, and the skin had turned a decayed, metallic gray. Terrence could see what was left of a krogan’s face forming the front foot with the jaw had been snapped open to form a claw. The body had been formed from three batarians and an asari. The face fixed on them and each one let out a howl like a badly tuned symphony. “Jesus! Kill that thing!”

Gunfire began puncturing its torso, only agitating it. It had been slow to turn, but then rushed up the stairs like a raging bull. Terry only narrowly yanked Roland out of the way before it smashed clean into the wall behind them. A blue, bulbous sack laid firmly at the top of its back, pulsating like a boil. It seemed to compose of softer tissue, encouraging the others to shoot at it. After a couple of thermal clips from each, the creature died.

_‘Sir, I don’t have line of sight. What’s going on down there?’_

“Boss! More of them!” Carol screamed. The others weren’t nearly as bulky as the first, but there now was half a dozen slow, lumbering abominations making their way from the basement. Each was like the first, either being formed from a singular rebuilt body or multiple fused together like an abstract piece of art. More continued to lumber out, each one showing more exaggerated cases of metallic growths from their original bodies. Limbs, eyes, and mouths were replaced with very rudimentary mechanical prosthetics, giving an almost robotic look to each victim.

They had the benefit of working in brighter lighting and funneling the monsters through a single stairwell. Minutes later, the stairs were littered with the corpses of disfigured and exaggerated interpretation of various species, each oozing a bluish black fluid on the steps. “I guess these were our disappearing corpses from the streets, boss,” Roland muttered.

Carol shook her head in disgust. “What could _do_ such a thing to these people?”

“Fall in, guys. We still need that artifact.” He led the others down the steps, taking care to plant his feet on solid ground and around the bodies. An itching fear started to grow at the back of his neck, half expecting one of the bodies to yank him down and pile on top of him. Would he even muster the bravery to scream?

The lights in the basement had been smashed and more of the blue-black fluid coated the floor. They found the others of Muslus’ squad, each body broken and dismembered by the hoard of undead. At the center of it all, just outside of Muslus’ dead hands was the case of the artifact barely big enough to fit a human head with a tennis ball sized sphere inside. The outside was a weave of ornate metal design with a blue, pulsating core on the inside. Each pulse filled the room and gave each member of the squad a slight impression of a dull headache.

Terrence hustled forward and scooped up the artifact, slotted it back inside the case, and shut it, clicking the locks into place. “Mission accomplished. Carol, set the building foundations to blow. Jeremy, meet us outside. And help me move Muslus’ squad outside before we level this place. We’re leaving.”

* * *

**May 4, 2081**

**Citadel Docks / Widow / Serpent Nebula**

The mission had taken a demoralizing toll on Terry’s team. Half the team that was sent to Omega returned in bodybags and their prize was rock that caused insanity and mutation more than anything. They were spared such a fate by the reinforced strongbox that had been found with the artifact by the gang members. Just what exactly was to be gained from this ancient hunk of debris?

Terry led the others down the docking ramp with the strongbox under his arm. SOP by now was to drop it off with the local Hierarchy milita. He’d forwarded the mission report ahead of time and they would typically have materials handed off to archeological research, storage for eventual repurposing, or dismantling under the right circumstances. He hoped like hell that it was the latter case.

He was surprised to see a squad of asari commandos awaiting them at the end of the docking bridge. “Staff Sergeant Miller? I’m Gerasa D'rolas, sent here by the local Huntress detachment. I got word I was to pick up hazardous materials retrieved during your recent mission.”

Terry tilted his head in surprise. “My orders were to deposit and debrief.”

“Your captain forwarded your report to my superiors, stating they don’t have the resources to handle something this volatile. We’ve got labs on standby to see that your package is unloaded and studied safely. I thought your captain would’ve told you.”

“No, ‘my’ captain never mentioned I’d be meeting you upon landing. He…” Something about her felt off and it bothered him. It didn’t help that the memories of the artifact’s capabilities were fresh on his mind and he wasn’t about to trust someone freely with the handling of such a dangerous weapon. “Fine. You think you can figure it out, it’s your poison.” He handed off the case to the commando.

D’rolas nodded and smiled. “It’s in good hands, Sergeant. This artifact won’t be causing you anymore trouble.”

He watched carefully as the asari squad turned and left down the docks. Perhaps it was nothing of concern. He’d rather he didn’t have to contend with the matter anyways.

* * *

**Tevos’ Office, Citadel Station**

_‘We’ve retrieved the package. We also confirmed with turian authorities the rightful passage of the package onto us. We’ll be moving it to the safety of the black-site lab.’_

Tevos leaned in, eyeing the door to her office cautiously. “Good. Did the terran squad prove difficult?”

_‘The squad leader seemed to suspect us, but ultimately made nothing of it.’_

“Good. I’ll be arranging a location for you to set a trap. Keep an eye on terran deployments. I’ll do what I can to send a small group your way.”

_‘Understood, Councilor. D’rolas out.’_


	12. Don't Let Go

Chapter 12 – Don’t Let Go

_Been filling out this journal ever since I was a kid. Dad told me it would be nice to have. That the pages I’d fill would be points in time I could look back upon fondly. Not sure if I’ll want to keep filling this out after the military. I’ve reached a point in my life where the events that will happen can speak for themselves. There’s no reason to verbally document what photos and albums will in a fraction of the time and memory._

* * *

**May 7, 2081**

**Terrence’s Apartment / Tayseri Wards / Citadel**

It was date night tonight and he had little in the way of proper training in how to pull this off. All he could really do was wing it based on what he had observed and overheard from his peers. He recently had a suit and white turtleneck shipped from Midgard and was fully suiting up in advance. A little ironing around the corners and now he stood in front of the mirror, inspecting himself one more time. For once, he got a crew-cut and a clean of shave for the occasion too.

Until now, Terrence didn’t think the suit would feel so liberating. Not that the Commonwealth military was authoritarian in nature but combat generally felt so tiring. Along with the stress of losing companions or potentially himself, combat devolved into one long scream. Running back and forth with biotics and nanites ensuring the survival of himself and others burned him out mentally and he hadn’t taken the time previously to recollect on it. It was like peering over the wall of a prison, looking at vast endless freedom and potential.

At any rate, the time for analogy could come later. He snatched his sidearm and slotted it into a thin holster just under his coat and made for the door. In advance, he had arranged an auto-transit hovercar to pick him up and pass by the docks. While he had saved up his leave for the occasion and time to work through the paperwork for resignation, Alice still had a couple weeks left. She would be filling out the forums in transit, but they wouldn’t take effect until she got back regardless of how quickly she filled them out.

She did however have the night to themselves and they would spend it for what it was worth. Looking at his omnitool on the way back to the docks, he looked over his reservation later that night. There weren’t any terran restaurants yet, but he did try out the cuisine at some of the higher end places around the station and found something akin to something at home, but also foreign in nature. Afterwards, a brief visit to a nightly festival on the Presidium. If need be, they would conclude with a marathon of some old Earth vids he’d installed from the Midgard archives at the apartment.

The taxi arrived several minutes later at the docks outside of the ship Alice had been stationed on. She had been waiting outside on the docks for him and had been looking at her omnitool in anticipation. Her brown hair had been tied back in a bun and her face had been lightly decked out in makeup. The navy-blue dress she wore went down just beneath her knees, had the neck stretch down to the very top of her bosom, and had an ornate rose brooch on her left shoulder. As the hovercar landed and the top opened to reveal the inside of the car, she looked up from her tool and smiled. “Hey there.”

“Hey yourself,” he chuckled. “Hop in. We got reservations.”

Stepping into the car, she revealed she also wore black heels with her attire. “What did you have reservations for?”

“Something a little higher end for once. At least get a glimpse of what the non-human upper class feels like.”

“Ooooo. I like the sound of that. Alien seafood?”

“Yeah. I did a little recon before setting this up and I think it’ll be fun.”

She made a suggestive smile. “And what about worries of allergic reactions?”

“Less than ten percent of people have dextro allergies. Other than that, dextro food doesn’t do anything except provide you with no nutritional value. Either way, you’re better off eating something else.”

“You sure?”

“I got the same documentation all the other Commonwealth medical staff got on this matter. I’m confident it’s well documented enough.”

* * *

**Presidium / Citadel**

“How did you find this place?” Alice asked between bites. Whatever she was eating looked crustacean, but more like something that would’ve been long fossilized.

The restaurant itself wasn’t too different from anything they could’ve expected. The design took greater influences from something asari in origin, including stone statues in the corners of the room. “I’d been doing some shopping for the apartment, got a recommendation at the checkout,” he answered. “Been meaning to ask. Where’d you like to go for the honeymoon?”

“You really had to ask me _that_ of all things?” she snickered.

“No really. Where would you like to go?”

“There’s a whole galaxy out there. You seriously couldn’t find a good place to start?”

“For starters, a planet lightyears from the Terminus. I’ve already seen my fair share of locals from my time with the Commonwealth. I was thinking more like somewhere deeper into Citadel space. Maybe like one of the other aliens’ homeworlds. I’d like to see some place like Thessia or Palaven.”

“Palaven’s a sunbaked rock where everything native to it is tolerant of heavy solar radiation. Unless you want to be fully decked out in your BDU for the trip, I don’t think that’d be ideal.”

“They’re just ideas. Sur’Kesh is also a great alternative. Besides, everything is still in the planning phase.”

“I see you’ve been keeping yourself occupied.”

“Because I want to get this right.” Terry’s voice suddenly took on a much more solemn tone as he cupped her hand in his. “Because this is what I want. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Her cheeks blushed, prompting her to cup her cheek with the other and avert her gaze briefly. “It’s meaningful to hear you say that.”

“Is your team fine with this?”

Erik Steiger was her squad leader and was the team sharpshooter. Terry had exchanged word with him only a few times and got a less than stellar impression of the lieutenant. Fenris Kingston was the team demolitionist and had an incredibly zealous penchant for destruction. Ian Wescott served as their biotic and did receive more formal training from asari since first contact. “They’re fine with it. Erik has been a stick in the mud, but only because he’s in it for the long run. What about you?”

“Roland has a solid head on his shoulders, so he’s completely fine with it even if he’s sticking with the Commonwealth for the long-term. As for Carol and Jeremy, they plan on decommissioning as well at some point in the future for newer horizons, so they’re actually cheering me on here.”

Bewilderment spread across her face. “This is actually happening, isn’t it?”

“It is.” The rest of their time had been otherwise eventful at the restaurant. After wrapping up, they exited onto the street of the Presidium. As the circular component of the station, it resembled many theorized Earth stations during the early years of human space travel where centrifugal force was used in lieu of gravity. They artificial daylight had been dimmed for the evening, giving way to the warm glow of lanterns, neon-lit floats, and waves of people as far as the eye could see.

It reminded him of photos of Chinese New Years’ festivities with its abundance of red coloring. The sound of drums and countless voices among the sea of people drowned out anything distinct he could’ve heard. For a while, they mingled with crowd, watching the dances, enjoying the puppet displays, and picking up some sweets on the way out. Eventually, they found a quieter piece of sidewalk on the other side of the artificial river dividing the ring with a balcony to overlook the festival below.

With the noise of drums and music in the distance, they had a much better opportunity to continue talking with each other. “What did you plan on doing after the honeymoon?”

“I was thinking of gravitating towards the Citadel for a bit. It’s bright, had people of all walks of life, safe, stationary, and has interesting corners worth exploring in full. And there’d be no shortages of non-military opportunities for you or me. I’ve already set my sights for the hospitals near the apartment, so all we’d have to do if you wanted to continue working is find a list and throw a dart.”

“That’s an interesting way of seeing it. What about Midgard?”

“Would you rather we live at home?”

“Not necessarily. You’ve put forward enough reasons to stay here. I’m just wondering if we’ll ever see it again.”

“Of course we would. There’s no doubt we would still be able to head home and pay a visit every now and then. Visit friends and old places, see where they’ve gotten themselves; that sort of thing.”

“And kids?”

His heart got stuck in his throat and bile threatened to start climbing up his esophagus. “That’s… still a little far ahead of us. At least for me, anyways. We’ll take our time when we get there.”

Her gaze drifted back to the festival. “Yeah. It scares me. Anyways, it’s getting late and I’ve got to be up early tomorrow for our departure.”

“So we’re not marathoning Alien?”

“You do realize those films went sour after the second, right?” she rolled her eyes.

“Hey. There are the indie films. They turned out leagues ahead of whatever else they put out at the time. Besides, it’s fun watching all the pre-spaceflight films. People had weird ideas back then.”

“I’ve got a better idea.” She leaned in and pressed her lips to his. He put his arms around her, drawing her closer. His heart rattled his ribs like an angry parrot in a cage and he wished that moment would last for an eternity.


	13. She was Here

_Last entry. Probably. I’ll keep this around years after I’ve stopped writing in it as a memento. Probably keep it in the corner to collect dust until a kid or grandkid digs it up and reads it. Or maybe I’ll pick it back up myself, pour over some of the older entries for nostalgia. It’d at least make for interesting stories._

* * *

**May 8, 2081**

**Asari Councilor's Office, Citadel**

_‘The trap is set, Councilor,’_ D’rolas reported. _‘What’s left is for some hapless terrans to spring it.’_

Tevos leaned in with interest. “And what of the lab? Is it prepared for the materials it’ll be working with?”

_‘The lab has been outfitted with sufficient restraints for the terrans and the convicts are debriefed to the extent we need them on the payload. Contingency plans are also in place in the case of discovery. The lab workers are a bit more vocal than I’m comfortable with.’_

“Just keep up the illusion of their deal. In the meantime, the next terran patrol is leaving tomorrow morning. I’ve set in motion the necessary context to get them out to you as well as a tracking beacon so you can anticipate their arrival.”

_‘Of course, Councilor. I’ll give you the play-by-play as we go. D’rolas out.’_

* * *

**May 9, 2081**

**Terrence’s Apartment / Tayseri Wards / Citadel**

He slowly stirred back awake to the whining chime of Alice’s alarm. Looking down, he still found her cheek and ear pressed firmly against his right breast with her hair flowing off like a waterfall. Both were still removed of clothing from the other night’s celebration after having returned home for a couple rounds in the sheets. Her face slowly lifted to meet his gaze. She gradually blinked the exhaustion out of her gray eyes. “’morning. Sorry to wake you so soon.”

“I’d still like to see you out of the door,” he beamed. “I’m going to be back here by my lonesome for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, cheer up. You’ve got that marathon of yours to finish,” she scoffed, pushing herself off him and rising out of the bed to fetch a new set of clothes. “In the meantime, I need a shower.”

“Y’know, we could always tell them you’re late. They’re not going anywhere without you,” he chuckled.

Alice cast a look over her shoulder, giving him a decent view of her muscled hourglass build. “Terry, please. I’ve got only an hour to suit up and get down there.”

“Fine.” He leaned up and grabbed a datapad from the bedside table. Alice hadn’t gotten started on her resignation form yet, but he’d been sitting on his for a while now and it was only half-completed. Half an hour later, she exited the bathroom fully dressed in her infantry uniform. Terry slid out of bed and grabbed a pair of underwear and a sweatshirt. He caught up to Alice just as she slung her bag over her shoulder and tapped the lock to the door. “Hey.”

“‘Hey’ yourself.”

“Just take care, alright? It’d be an awfully lonely galaxy if you were to up and vanish.”

She laughed and kissed him. “Just go back to watching Aliens you fuckin’ nerd.”

The door closed behind her, leaving a trail of warmth in her wake. Stretching his shoulders back, he turned back to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee going.

* * *

**May 6, 2081**

**Terran Frigate _Beyond Horizon_ Lockers, en route to Erinle / Osun System / Hourglass Nebula**

Of the things she wouldn’t miss, it was the exosuit. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it felt like wading through chest-high water and the sluggish feeling bothered her deeply. It gave a constant paranoia that a trip and fall was only meters away. The sensation was made much worse whenever she was on a planetoid with a significantly lower gravitational pull than what humans were used to. “Corporal Noel, you in here?” Sergeant Steiger knocked at the door frame.

She strolled into view. “What is it, sir?”

“Are you going to be alright for this mission? You won’t be too distracted?”

Alice blinked. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“I know you’re looking to bail when we get back so you can be with your fiancé. Not that I have anything against that, but I’m worried that may end up distracting you,” he grumbled with suspicion.

Her look turned to something sterner. “Staff Sergeant Miller and I have been together for years now. I don’t see how my ability to remain professional is suddenly undermined.”

Erik leaned against the door frame. “I’ll be the judge of that. At any rate, are you done? I know we’re still a few days out, but I’d like to brief everyone in advance.”

“Yes, of course.” She fell in line behind him to the briefing room. Fenris and Ian were already there and were in the middle of an arm-wrestling match.

“Alright, you clowns. Can it for another few minutes longer, I’ve got a few details I’d like to discuss,” he interrupted before tapping the controls on the projector. “We’ve got a short recon assignment on hand. Staff Sergeant Terrence and his team of turians dug up something interesting on Omega as you probably saw from the files I forwarded all of you. They also acquired a shipping manifold from the dead and undead – I assume – smugglers that leave a paper trail leading here. If there’s more of this stuff to be found, we need to find the source before it spreads. Additionally, it would be preferable if we discovered with better clarity the nature by which these are being made. Who made them, what makes them work, and why are these being made?”

“Sir, what are we to expect for hostiles?” Ian asked. “Smugglers or more of the Lovecraftian things Miller’s team encountered?”

“We’re to expect either. Unfortunately, there’s not enough intel gathered to prevent us going in blind. We have also been provided with a several reinforced strongboxes in case we find any uncontained artifacts assuming we find anything with a similar energy output. This mission is deep in the Terminus and I want us all together, so we get home in one piece.”

* * *

**May 16, 2081**

**Less than a mile from the smuggler den, Erinle**

The static haze was becoming denser by the second. _‘Be advised, we are dipping over the horizon from your relative location. We’ll be orbiting the planet and will reestablish contact in three hours.’_

“Copy that command. Out,” Erik sighed. “Command will not be keeping us company for a little while.”

“We can handle more than that, sir,” Fenris huffed. “We’ll be home before supper.”

“Then keep it down. This jungle is dense. Keep your eyes on the foliage for movement.” Erik rolled his shoulders and continued to take point. The shuttle dropped them some distance away from the indicated location of the smuggler’s camp to avoid detection. Alice was close behind, scanning for electrics and mines. The journey itself was quiet and uneventful, eventually putting them in on the edge of a shallow valley with the view of a prefab down below.

Alice holstered her weapon and took out a pair of binoculars. “Our intel is solid. Looks like our smuggler camp alright.” The site was dotted with mining vehicles and equipment. One looked to be an ore hauler with a large flatbed still full of rock to be processed.

“Coast looks to be clear too. Should we move in, sir?” Ian asked.

“No point in speculating from up here. Let’s get that closer look.” Carefully maneuvering down the hillside, they found the camp exterior to be strangely void of activity. It was off-putting for just how lucrative the planet was of mining operations.

“Looks like a ghost town, sir. I don’t like the implications,” Alice noted.

Erik eyed the door and exterior wall. There was no signs of fighting and the door was locked tight. “They’re all probably inside. Get the door, Noel.”

Pulling out her omnitool, she peeled back the external components of the keypad and hooked herself in. Breaking the lock wasn’t too hard and the mechanical door opened with a dull, mechanical whine. Ian peered inside with his rifle drawn. “All clear, sir. No activity yet.”

Everyone filed inside, cautiously putting each foot in front of the other anticipating some retaliation. What they found was more than puzzling. The facility was in perfect condition without a sign of combat. The dust on the surfaces was kept to a minimum, meaning the area must’ve been well kept recently and that it wasn’t abandoned. Erik felt some drip of sweat trickled down the side of his head. “Ian, you’re with me. Fenris and Alice, go sweep the other side of prefab. Report anything out of the ordinary.”

“This whole place _is_ out of the ordinary.” Ian stepped through a doorway with Alice into what looked to be a connection tube to the refinery. The lights were left on too, almost giving the impression that there was someone else inside with them. The refinery was inactive however, even with a considerable pile of ore to still work through. “Sir, you there?”

_‘We’re in the barracks. Found anything?’_

“No sir. We’re in a refinery right now. Looks like there’s work to be done, but there’s not a soul in sight. What about you?”

_‘No blood or bodies. Belongings have been left out and about like this place is still lived in. Regroup on us in the storage area.’_

“You got it. Let’s go, Noel.” The warehouse was the same as the rest of the compound. Empty, but not with sufficient evidence to indicate any proper foul play.

“I don’t get it, sir,” Fenris complained. “We roll up armed to the teeth expecting something nasty only to find the place abandoned.”

Erik eyed the demolitionist in irritation. “Now all that’s left is the storage. If they’ve all conglomerated as an inky black blob next to another artifact, then there’s our answer.” Alice opened the storage vault like she did the front door and slowly tugged the door open. The warehouse was small and filled with shelves of ore ingots awaiting transport. “You guys hear anything?”

“Sir! Down here!” The others met up behind Alice. At the end of her alley of shelving units was a dull pulsating blue glow on top of a pile of boxes. The artifact at the end wasn’t too different at a distance from the one seen in Miller’s report. To the side, it was hooked up to what looked like a hovercar battery.

He sighed. This mission was beyond weird and he was quickly becoming paranoid. “It’s better than nothing. Noel, box it up and let’s get out of here before anything else goes south.”

“You got it.” She pried a strongbox loose from her backpack and started cautiously approaching the device. As Terry described it, she could feel every pulse it put out as the dull ache. Only a few meters away, she paused hesitantly, expecting something to happen. A second passed. Then ten. Ultimately, nothing came of her suspicion. Alice shook off her worry. No time to waste.

Another foot forward when a bright flash overtook her vision. A piercing pain overtook her mind and she fell on her back writhing. Her ears were filled with the sounds of a whispering chorus, drowning everything in her surroundings out. Her panic returning, she started blindly calling for the others or some form of aid. It felt like gravity had intensified tenfold and the universe was weighing down upon her. Her mind drifted to Terrence one last time before succumbing to unconsciousness.

* * *

**May 25, 2081**

**Terran Cruiser _Terra Restituo_ , Citadel**

“Sorry, sergeant. The _Beyond Horizon_ has still found no trace of Sergeant Steiger or his team,” the communications officer answered.

Terry had unwillingly gotten back into uniform to board the ship and check in. He huffed in dissatisfaction and let his gaze burn through the floor. “Thanks for the update. Message me as soon as anything comes up.” He made for the door and returned to the docks. It had been a few days since Alice should’ve been home by now and almost two weeks since he first got word she up and disappeared. He had been initially hopeful that it was just a fluke, but his hope had been dwindling rapidly. Everything had happened so quickly, and it formed a cold, discomfortable ball in the pit of his stomach.

He stopped at a park bench and pulled open his omnitool again. Alice had sent him a couple of messages on her way to her mission just before she landed, and he hadn’t stopped looking at them. In turn, he messaged her back a few times, begging for some response. Worry had been fighting to overtake him and he was quickly losing the fight. “C’mon Alice… say something. Please… prove them wrong…”


	14. Was Never Meant to Be

_Can’t believe I’ve already picked writing this back up. I was hoping they’d have found something by now. Additional teams were sent down to the camp and found nothing. No sign of fighting, no scramble, no trace of where Alice may have been taken to. For now, I’m willing to write a couple of extra entries to find some personal solace._

* * *

**May 31, 2081**

**Erros / Arrae System / Minos Wastelands**

Gerasa entered the observation room overlooking the holding pens. The captive terrans below already appeared to be experiencing symptoms of the artifact they collected. A salarian stood nearby with a datapad in hand, providing an overview of the victims’ biometrics. “How are they, Ulben?”

Jordip Ulben had been arrested the year before for working on illegal neural mods. All the staff on the project were in fact convicts of varying crimes. They were brought on board with the promise of walking out with a clean slate upon completion of the project. “The subjects are quickly breaking down and have become increasingly agitated over the past hour. Also, I’d like to voice some concerns about their continued containment.”

“You’ve received all the resources you should need for this project. Any security is of your own concern.”

“It’s the artifact, Ms. D’rolas. It’s been tampering with our electronics and it’s becoming increasingly erratic. With the subjects’ increasingly hostile behavior, I’m not sure the systems will react in time under the circumstances of a breakout.”

“We’re working against the clock. Your job is to observe the artifact’s ability to mentally incapacitate applied to these soldiers and find a way to replicate it on a much more portable scale. If you can’t deliver in time, I’ll have no problem finding someone much more qualified.”

The salarian put his hands up in surrender. “And I will. But the others predict that containment is becoming increasingly difficult.”

“Then it’ll be my job to clean up and the mess will be on your hands.”

* * *

**June 2, 2081**

**Terrence’s Apartment / Tayseri Wards / Citadel**

A half-scream trembled from his lips as the buzz of his alarm woke him. He’d been having nightmares again. They’d quickly become populated by images of a transformed Alice lumbering after him. Like the monstrosities he faced back on Omega, she’d been fused together with Ian, Erik, and Fenris, their flesh intertwined with wires, twitching lenses, and mechanical pincers. The dreams would alternate between him triumphing and the monster tearing him clean in half.

The dreams themselves felt like they dragged on for days. He would be back on the streets of Omega, playing hide-and-seek with the abomination, dumping rounds, biotics, and grenades into it when he could before backpedaling until it lost sight of him. It would mock him too, with snippets of her voice. Bits and pieces of audio meant to goad him out. Her voice seemed to tremble and shake like she was melting.

Then there were the moments where he got up close. She was hunched over like a gorilla and her head was place firmly at the front with greasy hair drooping over the sides of her head like a mop. Her eyes had been removed from their sockets and her mouth hung open much further than a human jaw should. All three holes were pitch black and showed no bottom unless she drew closer. Then, the holes shown with a bright red light with an agitated glow.

Even when he won over this caricature, it would devolve into sobbing and please of mercy shortly before going slack complete. He raced to cup her melting face in his palms before the liquid seeped through his fingers. It ran like egg yoke from a fresh-broken egg as it trickled down the streets of his dream. He shook his head in an attempt to erase the mental image.

He quickly washed up and got ready for the day. It had been almost a month and he was starting to run out of his saved-up days of leave. Soon enough, he’d have to report back in for duty lest he be declared AWOL. Passing through the kitchen, he glanced at the datapad he left on the coffee table. His resignation forums were finally filled out and waiting for submission to the office. He initially hesitated about picking it up, but ultimately decided against it. Retirement would come when he knew Alice was safely home.

-\

**Erros / Arrae System / Minos Wastelands**

The lights continued to flicker overhead from extensive damage. After the week-long exposure, the terran biotic from the group hadn’t lost his prowess. Worse, they still had the mental cognition to break out, arm themselves, and take the artifact with them when they left. After killing the guards, they stole their weapons and made it all the way down to the hanger and stole a shuttle. Gerasa was furious, but he still collected a considerable amount of data.

The most concerning part of the incident was the sudden experience of system failure across the laboratories. Locks undid themselves, security backups never responded, alarms didn’t even blare until two minutes into the breakout. From extensive analysis, all the interference came from the artifact itself. Whatever it had done, it had rooted itself into their network and let itself loose. There were millions of implications to be made from this incident. Gerasa stomped into the lab. “What. Happened?” she snarled between clenched teeth.

“The artifact created systematic interference,” he stated plainly. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“Don’t lie to me! That rock does not have the capability to tamper with state-of-the-art security systems like that!”

“And there is still much we never got to understand about it! Like its ability to mentally alter the neurological health of its victims. I’ve still got extensive data from neurological scans of the victims. Erratic neuron firings, chemical unbalance, tumors, and none of it is done through anything detectable on the light spectrum.”

“You said it interfaced with the security network. How? Did you at least collect a software sample?”

“Of course not. By the time we found out there was interference, it broke out and whatever it injected into the system either withdrew to the artifact or deleted itself.”

She exhaled. “Forward your findings to me. I’ll be talking with my superiors and arranging for the escapees to be picked up before they make this mess any worse. And _you_ will be answering for the mess on display here.”

* * *

**Pirate patrol, short of the mass relay / Fortis / Minos Wastelands**

The batarian captain strolled into the hanger where three of his subordinates already waited for him. Each were laughing about their new quarry they found floating in this system. A shuttle had put out a distress beacon an hour earlier, and they stopped by to investigate, more with profit in mind than good intentions. However, upon their initial approach, they attempted to hail the shuttle with no response. “What have we here?”

“A normal shuttle. Asari. Probably got lost on its way out here.” The three laughed.

The captain wasn’t convinced. “What are they doing all the way out here, anyways?”

“On its way to Illium?”

He glared at the three. “Get it open and drag them out. Now.”

One stepped forward and pulled the panel for the emergency release off the side of the door and yanked at the lever hard. As he pulled the door open, a bullet tore through his head from the inside of the ship. Before the remaining three crew could react, more asari rifles peered out from inside and gunned down all three before they could even lift their own guns in retaliation. Erik led the others out of the side of the shuttle with the artifact firmly clutched in his left palm like a child gripping a toy. “Grab their armor. We’ll need this ship to get back to the Citadel.”

* * *

**June 4, 2081**

**Outside the Terran Cruiser _Terra Restituo_ , Citadel**

He hoped to never have to wear the suit ever again. It was too much to have hoped for. He’d been nervously checking his omnitool when Roland walked up from the docking tube. “Hey boss. How’re you doing?”

“Not good. I’m terrified to know what’s happened to her,” Terry admitted.

Clarke put a hand on his shoulder pad. “We’ll get Alice and the others back. I wish I had something more concrete than hopes and prayers, but I’m seeing this through to the end.”

Terrence nodded. “Alright. What’s word from the bridge?”

They exited the lockers and made their way through the “We’re going to be on patrol for a little while in the Hourglass Nebula until we figure out what happened to her squad. We’ll probably be the last group out there before we declare them MIA. I tried arguing for a longer period, but they barred me from any further discussion.”

“I appreciate the effort for what it’s worth, Roland.” The ground lightly reverberated under their feet before the artificial lights all around them went black. Red emergency lighting filled the air followed by the distant roar of fire and explosions. He got up and slipped his helmet back on. “Oh shit. Come on, let’s give C-Sec a hand.”

The streets were livid with panicking people as they got closer to the site of the explosion. The two continued to struggle getting through crowds of people stirred into an absolute panic. Halfway there, he took notice as four mercenaries in blank armor pushed past them away from the incident. Their helmets hid their faces and they looked like nothing more than a few batarians and an asari. He paused in the center of the sidewalk, watching the four move further away behind them when Roland yanked on his arm. “Boss, we’ve got to move.” 

They arrived to see a power facility in flames with fire crews and C-Sec officers already present. Terry was the first to ask anything. “Officer, what happened?”

“What’s it look like to you?” the asari grunted. “Some freak decided to pass time blowing up this facility. Right now, I’m still waiting on the firefighters to douse the flames before I can start my investigation and get the power back on proper.”

“What systems are offline?” Roland followed up.

“Everything from lights to life support systems. The keepers should be here to clean up the mess any minute, but the emergency backup generators will only keep those devices going for so long. Not much else either of you can do here.”

“Anything on the perpetrators?”

“This is C-Sec. A public statement will be made later once we pour over the security footage.”

They left disappointed. The hustle among the crowds hadn’t begun to die down yet, leaving them swarmed with panicking civilians every step of the way back to the docks. “This is just great,” Terry huffed. “What do you make of this, Roland?”

“Off-putting. What motive would the attackers have?”

“Any number of reasons. Let’s just get back to the ship and focus on the job at hand…” His glance caught on to the four mercenaries he’d sighted earlier on the way to the incident site. The four were huddle around a keeper entrance and were struggling to pry the doors open. “Hey, what’s going on over here?”

One the mercs stood up and turned to face him. His only response was the barrel of his rifle. Their shields took a burst of fire before Terry put up a barrier so he and Roland could move to cover. Similarly, one of the batarians put up a barrier to fend themselves while one of the others put something down by the door. The asari and two of the batarians turned to leave, but the fourth had been too distracted by the firefight to notice. The device exploded, catapulting the batarian forward, tearing the legs completely free from the body and knocking the helmet clean off its head.

The asari slipped inside, leaving only two left. Terry brought the barrier back up and started to push forward again with Roland close behind. His left foot accidently nudged against the downed batarian and for a brief second, he bothered to cast a glimpse down at the dead batarian. Then he took a second look, realizing the man wasn’t batarian at all.

Erik’s dead glance stared back up at him with a dead haze already washed over. His face had gone a pale white and his eyes were heavily bloodshot. The pieces snapped together with sickening speed and he rushed into the keeper tunnel after the asari, not bothering with the incoming fire or maintaining the biotic wall. “Boss! What the hell are you doing?!” Roland attempted to rush after before being forced back into cover. “Dammit! This is Corporal Clarke on all frequencies, I’m taking fire from unidentified hostiles. Requesting backup!”

Terrence didn’t heed his friend’s call for help on his comms, instead focusing on the supposed asari running from him. Her tracks wound back and forth through the twisted maze of tunnels the keepers travelled through to maintain the station. He continued deeper inside, only following echoes of her footsteps deeper and deeper. Eventually, he exited another set of doors pried wide open and found himself atop a catwalk.

The chamber he entered was the size of a large brewery and almost looked like one too. On either side of the catwalk was rows upon rows of glass containers, each with vague forms on the inside. Turning on the flashlight on his helmet, he came to the realization that the canisters contained more keepers. The imagery initially confused him. It wasn’t exactly clear if these keepers were growing or hibernating. “Alice? You there?”

In the distance, there was suddenly a distant clang of metal on metal. He shouldered his rifle and began his slow walk further into the chamber. The catwalk crisscrossed the pillars of keeper tubes like streets of a suburban neighborhood, giving plenty of room for her to hide in. The consistent clang of metal gradually grew louder as he continued to walk forward. At the center of the room was an opening with a singular pillar piercing the middle. It hung with countless loose wires like vines off an ancient tree, and Alice knelt at the center, bashing her knuckles repeatedly into its side.

“Why won’t this work? Why won’t this _work?!_ He _promised_ us-”

“Alice, what are you doing?”

His voice caused her to snap around with her pistol drawn. She’d taken her helmet off to work, leaving her sweat-matted hair to droop over her shoulders. Dark sacs hung under her eyes and her gaze had this non-attentive, sleep-deprived look to them. “Terry… I’m glad you’re here.”

“Sweetheart, just tell me what you’re doing.”

“He told us to come back… to come back. Make the keepers…!” She trailed off again, not exactly focusing on his question. “No… no no no, _you_ wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?! And who’s ‘he’?”

“Nazara told us this must end. He’s promising us power and full realization of our potential… I want this for us, Terry… I want us to be happy…” Tears trailed down her cheeks.

Terrence’s composure started to crumble. Whatever had been done to her, she’d been completely broken and now lie at the cusp of insanity. “Sweetie, please. Just ignore… ‘Nazara’ for now and come home with me. We’ll get you fixed up the best we can. I know you’ve messed up, but we can fix that. For you and me.” He initially hesitated to use the name. It didn’t sound like a name from any of the known alien species and it felt like he was only feeding her delusions.

She clutched her palm to her temple and leveled her gun to him again. “No! You don’t understand! They’re coming back! They always come back!” Alice paused for a moment longer, looking to something she left on the ground. It was the artifact he originally collected from Omega. “He can show you the truth, Terry. Listen to Nazara.”

Static and pain filled his mind again, prompting him to open fire again. Rounds ricocheted off the pillar behind her as she ducked behind another row of the keeper growth pillars. He continued to dump more rounds into her cover, hoping the glass exterior would’ve shattered. Between reloads, she shot off another few rounds back at him as she ran down another catwalk just out of view. Undeterred, Terry gave chase with a freshly loaded thermal clip in the chamber, tap firing down the catwalk. Her legs disappeared around another corner.

He attempted to cut her off running parallel to her position, finding a grenade lobbed at him by the end of the row. The explosion narrowly grazed his shields and sent glass, water, and chunks of hibernating keeper flying in all directions. His legs rolled him deftly back to his feet, just in time to see her closing with a shotgun. Pellets chipped at his barriers, prompting him to biotically hoist her through another keeper pillar.

Alice didn’t recover nearly as fast as he had. “Just give up. He’ll promise you more than whatever materials possession you could desire!”

“Alice, please just listen!”

She tossed the grenade at him, only for him to biotically fling it right back with sheer speed. Her left hand raised to protect her before it detonated, shattering more tubes and sending her flying out of view. Pure silence followed, encouraging him to rush forward and investigate Alice’s status. She was in bad shape. The grenade detonation had left a bloody stump where her left forearm was and had torn at much of her undoubtedly stolen asari armor and much of the skin and hair on the left side of her face. Her eyes now had an even more depleted look as blood loss, the concussion, and whatever had been done to her took its full toll. The pistol in her right hand had been torn apart by the explosion, but she still pulled the trigger at him expecting gunshots to follow. He could hear an audible ‘ping’ from each trigger pull.

Shakily, Terry holstered his rifle and pulled out his own sidearm. “Alice…? Please baby, j-just put the… the gun down.”

Alice’s eyes didn’t waver. Her dying gaze still held some hostile intent and it didn’t seem like she was listening to him anymore. 

“Look, Alice. It’ll take us a while to see you through. I can get you back to the medbay and…” He was kidding himself. The grenade had torn her wide open. Even if she lived long enough to see the medbay, she’d been tortured into possibly assaulting the public if coincidences were to be believed. From their brief conversation, there wasn’t even an indication that she was all there anymore. And as much as he tried to suppress the memory, the mental image of the insane and transformed gang members on Omega drifted into his eyes. Their drained faces and ravaging insanity, eating away whatever was left of their minds before being turned into monsters. Letting her live would hurt him more.

He pulled the trigger, pulling his gaze away just long enough to avoid seeing her head jolt one last time from the impact. It took him all his strength to see her dead gaze drifting up into the sky. Any last stoicism he had evaporated, and he completely broke down. Terry dropped the gun and rushed to her side sobbing, begging for her to come back. His arms wrapped over her shoulders and he held her tight, his lungs heaving incoherently.

This couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t be real. Everything that had felt right between them had evaporated in less than an hour. He struggled to mentally picture some image of her beaming smile if only to suppress the reality right in front of him. He remained like that for several minutes longer before finally pulling himself back to have another look at her. His fingers shakily brushed across her face, shutting her eyes one last time.

Only then did the sound of extra footfalls reach his ears. _‘Boss, where are you? It’s a maze down here.’_

Terry stood up to greet Roland as he entered the chamber. The engineer slowed down to take in the ample evidence of the fight that just occurred. Two other terran soldiers flanked him from behind arms at the ready. “Terrence, what happened?”

“I… Alice… she…” he panted, still struggling to hold back anymore tears.

Roland closed the distance and cut him off. “I’m sorry. We had to do the same with Ian and Fenris. They’re all gone. Did Alice have anything on her indicating why they did this? The others didn’t have any intel on them.”

Alice had dropped the artifact on the ground beside the massive pillar. It pulsed like it did when he originally found it back on Omega, creating the same visual distortions. “She… had this with her. Kept on ranting about a ‘Nazara’ too.”

“Naz- what?”

“I don’t know, but whatever this thing is, we can’t study it safely while it’s still in this active state.” Terry picked it up and pressed the other palm to the other side and began to crush it.

“Terry, wait.”

The device easily gave under sufficient strength. However, the moment he crushed it, he felt a small, electric, painful jolt through his body, causing him to suddenly lose balance. He fell onto his back, half expecting Roland to come to his aid. The engineer and the two soldiers instead had their guns trained on him. “Boss? You alright?”

The gesture caused some brief flicker of irritation. “Jesus, you too, Roland? I’m fine. I just… fell.”

“Boss, you saw what it did to the others. Are you sure you’re not affected too?”

The notion did give Terry some pause. “Fine. Just don’t shoot.” He stood back to full height with his arms partially raised.

Clarke didn’t break his gaze. “You two, get the staff sergeant back to the _Terra Restituo_ and put him under medical quarantine. I’ll start documenting everything down here.”

“Yes sir. Sorry, sergeant. You’re coming with us.” Leaving the chamber behind, his stomach felt cold and on the verge of puking.


	15. Painted Black

_Never in my life have I felt this cold. It already hurt having to put her down. Knowing she’s gone suddenly invalidates everything I had going on. I wished there was something more I could’ve done for Alice other than watch helplessly as she spiraled into insanity. And now my hopes and dreams turn to ash like her body in the incinerator. What’s the point if she’s no longer there? What do I do now?_

* * *

**June 5, 2081**

**Tevos’ Office / Citadel**

This shouldn’t have happened. It was lucky that the terrans cleaned up partially for them, but that still much to cover up. _‘What happened?’_

“We underestimated the capability of that artifact. Whatever it is, it had some sort of offensive reaction to the laboratory equipment. Worked its way in like a worm and… took control of some of the basic subsystems.”

_‘We need more help on this. Outside help.’_

_‘And risk exposing many of the Asari Republics’ deepest secrets?!’_

_‘This is obviously unlike anything we’ve ever seen. That facility had state-of-the-art cybersecurity measures, and the artifact infiltrated like we had no defense to begin with. IT is still racing to understand what it injected into the lab network and how it functioned.’_

_‘We have time the other races do not. We’ll take as long as we need.’_

_‘This still leaves the possible political fallout with the Terran Commonwealth. Our dreadnoughts have much greater strength, but we cannot afford a direct confrontation this early. Especially while they’re still on good terms with the Hierarchy.’_

Tevos cleared her throat. “As the lab was under my jurisdiction, I’ll contend with cleanup and ensure there’s no political consequences on our part.”

_‘Which reminds me, forward me the notes from that lab. There’s still rumblings of what happened a month back among my people and if there’s more slinking around the back alleys, I want definitive knowledge on how to fight back.’_

“We hadn’t observed any of the mutations that the terran-turian incursion discovered. Perhaps it’s a later stage.”

_‘All the same. There’s a lot hinging on your ability to tie loose ends.’_

* * *

**June 7, 2081**

**Terran Cruiser _Terra Restituo_ , Citadel Docks**

Terry sat silently and unmoving in his holding cell. He only moved to use the latrine and get any food slotted in from the cell door. His days were spent staring at Alice’s dog tags in his hand. After her death, he slotted her ring onto the chain. The nightmares persisted for the past couple days too, worsened by her demise. Her last sentences were etched into his mind and he now struggled to remember her as anything but distraught and lost.

A knock at the door caught his attention and he looked up to see it slide open. Another terran soldier entered followed closely by Roland. “I’m sorry, boss. I wish it didn’t happen.”

“I wish it were me instead.”

“Don’t say that. I wouldn’t be able to bear it at all Alice sitting right where you are instead. Anyways, the scans from the lab came back today. You should be fine.”

“I don’t feel ‘fine.’”

“Whatever that artifact did to you isn’t nearly as bad as what it did to Erik’s squad. Their autopsies revealed heavily damaged brain tissue, no doubt brought on by the artifact. We’ve been tracking whatever was injected into your own system. So far, it looks to be benign and has only taken root in your brain stem.”

He winced at the word ‘benign.’ It was already acknowledged that it was a cancer and it was just waiting to go off. “Can you get rid of it?”

“It would require lobotomizing you entirely to get that out. That said, it’s unclear if this is some sort of incubation period, so Command will continue to monitor your health remotely.”

The guard took a step back as he shifted himself back to his feet. “So am I clear to leave?”

“For now, yes. You’ll be on sick leave for as long as you need. Command is at least understanding.”

“Speaking of Command, any word on how the artifact we clearly handed off to the asari ended up brainwashing them and ending up in his hands?”

“We’re still working on it. We don’t even know if it’s the same artifact. It could be one of thousands and I’ve been pouring over the remains to verify that it’s the same one.”

“Maybe we should press the asari then. _They’ve_ got all the experts for this. I’m sure they’ve got some explanations too.”

Roland’s otherwise neutral expression shifted to one of mild shock. “Terry, I know you’re still in shock, but blaming our allies isn’t bringing Alice back. Especially if we don’t even know they’re responsible.”

“And what if they are?” Terrence snarled, stepping up to Roland.

“What if they’re not?”

“They still dropped the ball. They didn’t have a tight hold on that artifact. They still left it somewhere where a third party stole it and poisoned Alice. I want some goddamn answers.”

Terry put emphasis on the last few words that made Roland lightly recoil. Biting down on whatever fear manifested, he simply answered, “You’re free to depart for sick leave. Try not to make a mess before you return to duty. I’d hate to see you in the brig again. But do keep on your best behavior. Command is still watching.”

“Fine. I’ll be on my way then.” He pocketed the dogtags and made his way to the lockers instead of the docking tube.

* * *

**Erros / Arrae System / Minos Wastelands**

Ulben had been busy in the lab all day along with his coworkers. Days after the breach in containment, further efforts to investigate what happened had been dropped in favor of cleaning out the lab. All hands had been on deck, digging out equipment and boxing it up for departure. Since then, the asari guards had been reduced to a skeleton crew and had generally automated much of the station processes. There were rumblings among the other lab workers that they should make a break for it the next time the asari guards came by to let them out. “They’d gun us down,” Ulben huffed.

His coworker merely shrugged. “They can’t shoot all of us. And I’m _not_ going back to jail.”

“None of us even pilots. We wouldn’t make it out of the hanger bay.”

“We could probably set it to autopilot. It’d take us all the way back to civilized space.”

Ulben nervously eyed one of the security cameras in the corner of the room. No doubt there was still someone on security, watching for suspicious activity. “They’d see it from a mile away.”

“And they’d let us out of here at some point.” The other worker lifted his gaze to the door and elbowed Ulben. “Hey. By the lab door.”

A couple of asari commandos had walked up to the lab door and were just standing there. Eyeing the doorframe. “What are they doing?”

His coworker ignored the question and walked over. “We’re almost done in here. Are we getting ready to leave?”

The other asari turned away and put a finger to her earpiece. “Yeah, they’re almost done. The door doesn’t look like it has been tampered with, so we’re ready to go.”

The salarian couldn’t hear the conversation, but he was starting to get nervous about the commando’s behavior. “What is she doing?”

“Can’t tell.”

Suddenly, the vents made a harsh mechanical whirl inside of the lab. Overhead, a green-brown gas started to seep into the room, forcing the lab workers into a frenzied panic. Ulben immediately recognized the gas being used. Chimera-5 was an infamous neurotoxin developed by the Hierarchy during the Krogan Rebellion before the Genophage had been developed. Because of the krogan’s ability to rapidly recover from various traumatic injuries, it was offered as a much more potent alternative.

It would melt the victims’ blood vessels on inhalation, resulting in heavy internal bleeding. It also led to other horrifying symptoms like bleeding from the orifices, blood vomiting, and the lungs rapidly filling with the leaking fluids. Victims would die by drowning where they stood rather than bleeding out first and it was an effective utility weren’t it for the possibility it would render entire planets uninhabitable. After the war, the compound had been made illegal, but it didn’t stop many organizations from continuing to manufacture it.

The others started screaming too and made for the door. Horror dawned upon everyone present and they pressed themselves against the reinforced glass, pounding their fists and begging the guards to let them out. Ulben quickly felt the symptoms kick and clutched his chest as he fell to the floor. His lungs felt like they were on fire and his vision blurred with red as blood seeped from his eyes uncontrollably like tears.

Then his diaphragm started to spasm as his body contorted itself to start flushing out excess blood. He barely mustered the strength to tilt to the side and puke, oozing out a green-orange trail of gunk onto the hard lab floor beside his head. Similarly, the screams from around him had turned in to gagged coughing and puking. The effort took the remaining strength out of him and he let his neck go slack. He continued to fight for breath as everything in his vision turned white like a bright summer day.

* * *

**Stolen pirate vessel, Citadel Docks**

“This area is under C-Sec jurisdiction. I can’t let you in.” The turian officer stood in front of the docking tube stubbornly.

Terry also stood alone and in full body armor. He was on sick leave, giving him the leeway he needed to confirm some personal suspicions. “This is a concerning matter for the Commonwealth. I can’t leave empty handed.”

“Don’t make me call my superior.”

It was pointless to argue. But he was desperate for answers and he wasn’t going to let the politics of law enforcement stop him. “That’s fair enough.” There had to be another way in. It was tempting to simply knock out the officer right then and there, but it was unnecessary to be arrested for assaulting an officer just to find some closure. A few other officers were on patrol nearby, so it would’ve been inadvisable.

The pirate vessel had a small hanger bay for cargo and shuttle use, and had been left lightly attended, with only a couple of officers on patrol. Gaining access would’ve been difficult, but his stronger legs allowed him to jump up and climb his way in. Just inside was a shuttle with stripped markings and its doors wide open. An officer inside had been working underneath the cockpit control panel and had looked out from underneath to view who had been approaching. “Hey! This is a crime scene. You’re not allowed back here.”

“Your superior let me through. The Commonwealth got clearance from your department for us to have access to the evidence,” Terry lied.

The salarian officer simply stared at him and slid from underneath. “And what exactly did you come for?”

“The nav data. We just needed a copy.”

“Lemme put that up with my superior then.” The salarian exited the ship and pulled out his omnitool.

Opportunity stared right back at him. While the salarian outside was buzzing on back and forth between his superior officer, Terry stepped forward with his own tool and linked up to the shuttle computer and hurriedly began sifting through the equipment. Sure enough, the nav data had been untampered and hadn’t been transferred out yet. His omnitool connected and started copying over the file at an alarming rate.

The salarian returned shortly after with his pistol drawn and flanked by two other officers. “Alright, stick ‘em up. That was a nice little… ploy? Hello?” Terry disappeared completely from the scene and there was barely an indication he’d been there.

* * *

**June 13, 2081**

**Erros / Arrae System / Minos Wastelands**

He spent a considerable amount renting the shuttle he was driving. Though, it was ‘driving’ in the loosest sense. Terry was a soldier and doctor, not a pilot. It cost extra for a shuttle that had an autopilot and the luxury of simply pointing and sitting back for the ship to do the work for him. Not that it mattered. He had sufficient financial power after he was done.

Erros was a red, volcanic planet out deep into the Terminus beyond prying eyes. The lack of atmosphere didn’t make it a very welcoming planet either aside from mining teams looking for basic metals. His shuttle landed atop a mineral bluff with a wide view of the uneven terrain. The nav data pointed to somewhere around this spot on the planet, but the terrain did an exceptional job hiding the point of origin underneath its red stone terrain.

Then another shuttle departed, its point of origin obscured by another hill. It resembled the shuttle he saw back aboard the stolen pirate ship, with its gray hull and lack of apparent markings. Following the trail of its sudden appearance, his eyes fell on a hanger door, slowly winding shut again. With renewed confidence, he began to wander the hillside for any other entrance. No doubt it would’ve been a bad idea to enter through the front door.

Eventually, he found an airlock with minimal security in place. His further intrusion onto the property was further unnoticed. The facility looked relatively unkept with small trails of red dust lining the corners of the hallway. There was very little sound too, including ample evidence the previous inhabitants had left in a hurry. Abandoned boxes, overturned bunks in the barracks, dumped shelving units, and scrapes along desks indicating the computers or monitors they housed were yanked away with aggression. Terry passed by a lab door with holo-tap fencing off the entrance, labeled ‘hazardous, do not enter.’ Even through their attempts to clean it up, his visor picked up trace amounts of blood between the floor tiles.

Voices started to trail from up the hallway, and he entered a cautious stance as he followed the sound. It was a security office with an asari sitting in front of a monitor mid exchange with another commando. “The last of the lab workers’ bodies are on their way to be dumped and I just finished wiping the security feed. After that, we’re off.”

Terrence instantly recognized Gerasa D’rolas’ voice and it formed a cold, icy ball in the center of his chest. _‘Make sure your tracks are thorough. The Councilor is already breathing down my neck over how those rats made a dash for the Citadel. If this fucks up and they do find out, I’ll personally see to it your head rolls.’_ It was only guesswork, but the cold stab of betrayal hurt like nothing else. The fact Alice’s last days had been spent as a guinea pig for whatever the asari Councilor had been trying to achieve burned more away than he could’ve imagined and he stood there, clutching at his chest piece like his palm would somehow ease the pain through several centimeters of armor.

That bitch will die. They would all die.

_‘At any rate, finish your work and I’ll debrief you once you get back to Illium. D’rolas out.’_

“Great. That’s done and dealt w- Hello?” His pained breathing had become a heavy, audible wheeze. The pain boiled over.

He roared, bursting into the room, grabbing the lone commando with his biotics, and slamming her across the room. Her barriers burst after the first hit and was left to the absolute mercy of kinetic energy as her head and limbs impacted the concrete walls. She was thrown into furniture, had her face smashed against monitors, and her legs were broken upon an overturned desk. Even after her screams stopped, he continued for a while longer before stopping to look.

The asari commando’s corpse had been dismembered and broken with only a single, shattered leg still left attached. Like the room, her armor was now coated in deep streaks of purple blood, gushing out of the stumps and holes in her armor and body. The head had been caved in and now resembled something like a stuffed doll than it did a sentient being. The body fell to the floor with a wet slap, like a raindrop. _‘Security, are you there? We just returned from our last run. The last of the bodies have been tossed into the volcano. Do you copy?’_

His trance of hatred snapped for a brief second. The security monitor on the wall had been damaged and one corner of the screen now displayed a rainbow of colors spiderwebbing outward from the point of impact. The part of the screen that still worked showed the shuttle he saw from earlier returned to the hanger. _‘T’mento? Don’t make me come up there for you.’_ He turned to leave. Best not to keep them waiting.

* * *

**June 20, 2081**

**Tevos’ Office / Citadel**

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Originally, she thought she was in the clear. She trusted D’rolas to clean up the lab safely enough and the Commonwealth had officially disavowed their ‘rogue’ troops. They had no proper evidence of wrong-doing and she had the luxury of know that. But the news that rolled out from Erros threw a wrench in any plans. “Any survivors?”

The asari commando had led another team to investigate the lab after all remaining callsigns failed to report in after forty-eight hours. _‘It’s messy. One was in security. Looks like she died just after our call. Then the assailant flushed out the remaining shuttle, too. There was no evidence left at the site for the attacker to retrieve. The more troubling news is who it was. A lone terran soldier tracked us back here from the shuttle the subjects took.’_

A bead of sweat rolled down Tevos’ back. She had made sure the crime scene was cleared of suspecting eyes until the flight recorder had been moved to evidence for dismantling. It’s nothing to convince the public as the commandos who died could easily be disavowed, but it was still troubling news. “Very well. I’ll have the project shut down.”

_‘Councilor, we’ll still need this. If this is the damage we can expect from a single Commonwealth soldier-’_

“Let him fade in memory,” Tevos interrupted. “The terrans age much shorter than we do. In another century, this incident will fail to be a problem any longer. We’ll attempt this again at that time.”

_‘Very well, Councilor.’_

* * *

**June 21, 2081**

**Dark Star Lounge / Zakera Ward / Citadel**

“That was stupid of you, boss.”

Terry ignored Roland’s words. Roland wasn’t even his subordinate anymore after being relocated, but they had one last drink at a bar before they went their separate ways. Carol and Jeremy had retired to move on to bigger, better things, leaving the two on their own. For Roland’s own safety if Terry was contagious, the two were being kept apart while on active duty. “It was strictly recreational,” he dismissed.

“You _murdered_ six asari commandos!” Fortunately, the music in the club had been too loud for any of the other patrons to hear.

“Roland, ‘murder’ implies my act was illegal. How do you classify killing people already amid criminal acts?”

“They could’ve been Eclipse or something-”

“D’rolas was part of that conversation! They were all in on it from the fucking start!” he rebuked, slamming his fist on the counter.

Roland was about to counter, but ultimately decided against it. Terry hadn’t been recording and it was all just hearsay. It could’ve been a hallucination induced by the artifact virus now lobbed inside his brain. He would sadly never know. “Boss, please. You just need more time to recover. I know you had a lot going for you but-”

“Enough, Clarke. I appreciate your efforts to try and comfort me, but let me grieve my own way.”

The engineer rolled his eyes and made a mocking gesture to ‘imply’ Terry’s genius. “By letting you start an intergalactic war. Oh, yeah. I hadn’t thought of that one.”

A squad of mercenaries strolled up to the group. “You’re in our spot, terrans. Step aside.”

The two looked over their shoulders. The mercenaries composed of two krogan, a salarian, and an asari. They all donned maroon-colored armor but weren’t distinctly part of Blood Pack. “The place is pretty big enough. Find another spot on the bar.”

“We like this spot. It’s got a nice view.”

Terry’s temper was starting to build again. “I’m in a bad mood. Leg it.”

The krogan at the center stepped forward. “So are we.”

He wasn’t giving the krogan a second chance. His hand let off a biotic toss, throwing the krogan back and knocking over the other krogan and the salarian. The impact that followed put a considerable dent in the wall panel. The asari charged him with her own biotic throw, slamming him hard against the bar. She continued with a blade drawn, only to have her thrust blocked and the blade dropped somewhere at his feet. Kicking her away the other krogan rushed and pinned him to the bar table by his neck.

His nanites formed a blade from his arm before being thrust into the neck of the krogan. Pulling down hard, the neck was slit clean open, causing the mercenary to recoil from the pain. Terry then followed up with a stab from the jaw through the head, dropping the krogan. The asari picked the knife back up and charged again, earning her his blade in his sternum. He gave the blade a good twist and hosted her into the air and over his head, slamming her head onto the ground with a sickening crack. The salarian was about to rush him when the other krogan held him back.

“Let me at him, Wrex!”

“We’re leaving, Cinin. Let’s drink somewhere else.”

“He killed Terk and Esthya!”

Terry pointed his blade at the two and growled, “Leave. Now.”

The krogan just hoisted up the salarian and hustled off. They’d gathered the attention of the other attendees and Roland’s stare cut right through him. “Boss, you better get your shit together or you’re going to end up killing half the galactic population by the time you’re out of medical leave.”

“I will. I’ll walk it off.” He strolled out of the club shortly after and made for the nearest taxi back home. Honestly, venting on the two mercenaries had made him feel a bit better. It had given him helped to reevaluate his situation. Everyone was just an obstacle. The universe left him a vacuum in his life, and he needed equilibrium. He wasn’t too keen on waiting for that balance to appear on its own accord.

It was late when he finally returned to his apartment. He picked up the datapad still left by his bedside and opened the documents folder. His hand travelled straight to his military resignation form and deleted it. There was no longer a point to leaving. His job remained unfinished.


	16. Same Old Same Old

_Here’s to twenty years after Alice. Every now and then, I daydream what I would’ve been like had D’rolas and Tevos not taken her away. But I keep myself busy well enough. Not as busy as I had been picking around the black market with a bunch of turians but busy all the same. Maybe I should try and become a commissioned officer. Keep myself busy with barking orders behind a war table and paperwork instead._

* * *

**June 1, 2101**

**Terran Frigate _Loki_ , en route to Almarcrux / Caspian System / Maroon Sea**

In his locker, he kept a bottle with Alice’s tags wrapped around its neck like a scarf. Every now and then, when Terry was at his lowest, he would pull out a bottle and take a couple shots from it. It probably would’ve been much more productive to just find someone else and move on with his life, but that wouldn’t have been doing her memory any justice. He wanted to get even.

Once again, he was on another brief mission to provide aid to scientific survey team gone silent for a week too long. They’d been out there studying microbacteria in their natural habitat. Maybe he’d face shrimp again. There hadn’t been any sightings of those creatures since they left the Mani System. Or maybe the batarians finally built the nerve to start attacking again. If it meant eventually turning Khar’Shan to irradiated ash, he’d be all for it.

Putting the cap back on the bottle, he slid it back inside the locker and reached for the suit. The last thing he needed was for his subordinates to catch him drinking on the job. His hand brushed over one of the many scratches along the dark olive-green paint. He’d forgotten to have the armor plating repainted and he’d have to leave a mental note the next time. Just over the visor of the helmet, he’d painted on a small red heart with the black head of a raven laid carefully on top. It had been a gesture of mourning and it was small enough that inspections didn’t notice it. Armor aesthetic customization was still largely prohibited, but the regulations had been slowly softening over the years and there was increasing consideration the rule should just be weakened.

The helmet clicked into place, followed by the familiar hiss of the seals kicking in. The visor lit up and the HUD gradually flickered to life. The holographic eyepiece extended and retraced from his temple to ensure functionality. He gave a glance around the locker room, testing out the new tag feature as a part of his visor. In conjunction with his motion tracker and vital monitors for his subordinates, he could ‘outline’ friendly callsigns, allowing him to keep a real-time eye on their general disposition up to fifty meters. It would loosely apply to hostiles too, but with fewer features and at half the distance.

His team was composed of a bunch of greenhorns all barely a year out of basic. They each shared their stupid jokes all the way and all had a good laugh like they were still schoolchildren. Their lack of experience was a constant concern. With Roland, Carol, and Jeremy, they’d become accustomed to his commands and callouts after years of being together and having to reteach his system to greenhorns every several months had become a minor gripe. What they lacked in full long-term training and reaction time, they more than made up for in volume.

For all his complaints about his steep change in personality, Terry did admittedly miss Roland being his second-in-command. It was a personal reassurance that there was someone along who was equally competent as himself who could at least bring a second pair of eyes on how to approach a given problem. Now it was a random recruit of the seasonal rotation. A few had been genuinely surprising in their assessments of what combat fielded against them. Others could barely tell the difference between the barrel of a rifle and the stock. Worst case scenario was that they were a lapdog or a glory hound in the making.

As small as the Commonwealth was, their relative isolationist stance had played to their strength. Even those who did participate in military service began to live longer lives with each generation. The average amount of children per family had only increased by a few since the early days of Midgard, but it was enough to see consistent growth on an annual basis. And with deaths and disappearances kept to a relative minimum for as dangerous as the Attican was, they saw consistent growth and would probably have a hundred million in total population in another thirty to forty decades.

There were only a few people who stayed in the Commonwealth armed forces such as himself, and in conjunction with rotations, reassignments, and fatalities, his time to stay in touch with his cohorts was relatively short. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

His current second in command stood at only up to half his own head. Terry was already enormous, standing at two meters in height outside of his suit alone. “I did indeed, corporal. How long have you been serving in the corps?”

“A year, sir.”

“Come with me to the bridge. We’ll be in the planet’s orbit in a couple of hours. If you’re going to be working under me, I need you up speed on the current situation.” He led the corporal to the bridge of the vessel where he met with the communications officer. “You picked up anything from the science team on Almacrux?”

“Nothing concrete. We did finally decipher what sounds like a distress signal, but it’s all jumbled by the storm.”

“Very well. What’s the captain say?”

“You’ll be deploying at a distance until you find whatever’s left of them.”

“Very well. Corporal?”

“Sir?”

“We’ll be starting with an overhead sweep. After assessing the situation, I want you breaking off from the main group with another team to check any structures they have on the ground. I’ll let you know if the initial plan changes based on upcoming circumstances. Is that clear?”

“Crystal, sir.”

* * *

Almarcrux could reasonably be a world set for terraforming. There was already an atmosphere, water, and minerals and metals on the surface making it sufficient for life should minor alterations be made. Other than ethical quandaries surrounding the microbacteria and their potential to become another sentient species long after their own had disappeared, the drastic shift in temperature between day and night would be a challenge.

The water on the surface would turn to ice at the terminator, creating slick sheets on the surface terrain. It was still the early afternoon when they finally arrived over the science team’s camp. Terry ordered the shuttle pilot to enter a holding pattern over the camp until they properly assessed the fate of the science team below. There was nothing to indicate any pirates had landed. There appeared to be some smoke from a crashed vehicle, but there was no sign of pirates or any other activity for that matter.

What had piqued his interest was where the camp had been established. They were in the middle of a large opening at the dead center of a valley where they would’ve seen trouble coming along the surface or the sky. The buildings had been lightly damaged, but it was too hard to tell from so high up by what. The biggest clue to the fate of the crew was how one of the surveyor’s trucks had been partially engulfed by the ground with the rear end jutting up into the air at a sixty-degree angle and the soil underfoot looked to be relatively soft. “Alright corporal, I’ve had a change of plans. Take the others to the edge of the valley and land. Lead everyone back here slowly. I’ll drop down and have a look around ahead.”

The corporal responded with what he could only image was a look of confusion. “Uh, sir?”

“Looks like our ill-fated science team happened upon a thresher nest. I’ll take it out but be careful in case more come through. Give my order to the pilot.”

“Shouldn’t we provide backup, sir?”

“Last time I brought a bunch of greenhorns with me to a thresher maw fight, all they ended up providing was a distraction. I’ll do better on my own.” Terry jumped out and extended his arms out like wings and held out spheres of biotic energy. A turian cabalist had taught him a trick or two about using his abilities like a parachute, creating excess drag against gravity. His feet touched down gracefully, and his arm reached back for his rifle. “Alright, worm. Come out. Dinner’s arrived.”

As expected, the prefabs were empty, and no number of loud yells got so much as a peep. Upon closer inspection, the damage he could barely see from above was indeed acid damage. The panels on the walls had melted over like candles days ago and had left trails leaking onto the dirt below. The security detail they had hadn’t fared much better either, leaving half-eaten weapons on the ground.

He then entered a sort of ritualistic dance to goad out the beast, jumping back and forth between his legs and stomping as hard as he could. Thresher maws could feel the slightest vibration for miles. Anything that was potential food wouldn’t be sitting stock still. Then the tremors started to shake the ground. A grin grew on his face. His feet stopped their little game and entered a light tip toe, lest the beast simply snatch him up from underneath. Roughly thirty meters behind him at the edge of the camp, the monster erupted from the ground and let out a bellowing cry.

His aim snapped around and took a few potshots at its head to aggravate it. “There you are. Come spit at me.” Typically, a few bursts would prompt it into returning fire with a lob of acidic spit. From there, it was just a matter of using his biotics and centrifugal force to slingshot it back. The only thing genuinely tough structure about a thresher maw was its exoskeleton. High velocity rounds tore up its insides all the same. It wasn’t resistant to its own acid, so it would just be a matter of throwing its head and nailing some well-placed shots.

Oddly enough, it took a while to respond. Then it pointed its head straight up into the air and roared. The volume was high enough to even shake his skull inside the safety of his helmet and the roar continued to echo through the valley. At first, nothing happened. Not even the thresher maw moved. Then the ground shook again. Another thresher maw erupted from his left. A third erupted from his right, tossing a prefab into the air as it rose from underneath it.

“Ah, shit.” A one-on-one with a thresher maw on foot wasn’t unheard of. The krogan’s rite of passage included surviving a fight with one, but it wasn’t impossible to win the fight. The same had gone for asari who’d long since become proficient with their biotics, like the Justicars. Going toe-to-toe with three thresher maws alone was borderline suicide.

Terrence narrowly rolled out of the way of two simultaneous lobs of acid and blindly fired behind him as the third dove at the ground ready to swallow him up. In hindsight, he probably should’ve requested a couple extra packs of explosives from the demolitionists aboard the shuttle. Standing back up, he barely had the time to toss aside another incoming ball of spit. He hadn’t had the time to aim and it flew wide. When the ground immediately underneath him began to crumble, it was far too late, and he already began counting the last few seconds.

A thorn on the rising thresher maw’s hide hit him firmly along the back, causing him to summersault forward. To either side of him, acid splashed on the ground and he turned to see the thresher maw behind him. For what it was worth, the thresher maw that had just knocked him down had also unwittingly took another burst of acid for him and it was now writhing in pain above him. Peaking out from around the side, one of the two spat another lob at him, also catching the underside of the thresher maw. Standing up, the thresher maw he’d taken cover behind disappeared back down, only for the other to sprout from the ground where he had landed.

With at least one burrowing to temporarily recover from the splash of acid from its own companions, he was offered some better clarity with which to slingshot the acid from the first back at the relocated thresher, catching it on the side of its head before it could turn to look at him. Just ahead of him, the ground shifted again, causing him to decide on a small gamble. He pulled a couple of grenades from his belt and let them cook for a few seconds. Just as the injured thresher maw returned, he jumped right over its gapping mouth, dropping both grenades inside. It hadn’t even returned to full height when the grenades exploded, tearing its head open and dropping its corpse right back into the hole.

The other partially injured thresher maw had turned back at him and spat. He hadn’t bothered trying to toss it back, instead trying to put a few rounds through the hole he had burned in its head. It continued to sway back and forth from the pain, making a clean shot hard to properly achieve. He’d dumped three and a half thermal clips into it before it finally got the message to keel over and die.

All that was left was the third, and it was starting to burrow again. It had been a while since the fight had started, and he looked back to the hills to see where his squad was. As ordered, they’d landed at the side of the valley, but were in a full sprint to reach him. No doubt it had been drawn off by the greater promise of more unwitting prey. Too late was he to reach them and the thresher maw had already sprung up and sprayed three recruits with its spittle. The Commonwealth BDU still wasn’t made of material meant to be tolerant of such a low pH and the three just flailed as they melted into red sludge.

“God dammit! Get the hell off my troops!” It started to flail about under concentrated fire from multiple sources, forcing it to retreat underground. He rushed over to the nearest demolitionist. “Private! Det packs! Hand ‘em to me!”

“Sir, shouldn’t I handle them?”

“I’ve got it. Stand back.” He temporarily set the pack down and opened his omnitool to hastily calibrate the detonator to it. The remaining troops had huddled up nearby and the dirt started to make clouds under their feet. He hastily shoved the group back with his biotics and yanked up the explosives and flung it like a frisbee at the maw’s head. The explosion caused the beast to waver and flop down in front of him like a dead fish.

He wasn’t too tired from the ordeal; just irritated. Biting lightly on his lip, Terry pulled his sidearm and shot a few rounds into the dead beast. “Fuck you, worm!”

The others started to cheer and holler at his exploits. Others even pulled out their own omnitools to snap a few images of the dead monstrosity. He took a few sips from his water pipe and waddled over to the corporal. “What are our orders, sir?”

“Same as before. Grab the ID tags off the three who got melted and start sweeping the settlement to take account of the dead. Salvage any hardware if you can. And get your kick out of these corpses while you can. I’ve had it with this fucking rock.”


	17. Chapter 17

_Time drags like a kicking and screaming child. I hadn’t taken into consideration how slow this last decade would be, so I finally decided to sign up for officer training. If I’m going to be sitting on my ass most of the time, I’d want to have some gravitational pull and gradually make my way up the chain of command. I considered special ops training too, but I hastily gave up on that notion. The academy can’t teach you to down a thresher maw alone._

* * *

**Feb 3, 2112**

**Grigori Monument Academy / Midgard / Mani System**

For once, he was in an officer uniform. Like the armor he was used to, it was a dark olive green with the only difference in color being the gray buttons and officer’s decorations. He kept eyeing the rank insignia on his chest. “Strange to think I made it this far, huh?”

Roland nodded in light approval. “You have my congratulations. Will you keep climbing the ranks?” The two had a bit of a falling out after the incident on Erros. Roland believed Terry was out of line and simply refused to continue talking or seeing Terry in any capacity. After the first decade, they did attempt to reestablish some form of friendship, albeit very sparsely. They spent their shore leave differently and the times they were together was far and few between.

“Maybe until I reach captain. High enough to be prestigious but low enough that its reachable within my lifetime.” Most likely, he’d probably live long enough to get higher. Their unique biology hadn’t only allowed them to live healthier, but longer. They were sitting in their sixties, but in terms of health and appearance they were somewhere in their early thirties.

Meanwhile, his former subordinate had made staff sergeant to fill in for Terry’s promotion. “At least you get to sit back now. Enjoy the safety of an officer while it lasts.”

“Actually, I was still considering working actively in the field.”

He raised a brow. “Isn’t that risky? Chain of command and all?”

“If this galaxy really wanted me dead by now, it’d have my corpse.”

“All we’ve fought is fauna, pirates, and mercs. Neither of us have even faced a disciplined force in the field yet.”

“The Hierarchy allows their officers to be on the battlefield. I don’t see what I can’t afford to do the same.”

“You’re crazy, Terry. Just what have you left to… never mind. It’s your grave, not mine.”

* * *

**Oct 5, 2116**

**Grigori Monument Academy / Midgard / Mani System**

He watched from the observation booth above as the two fireteams below continued to exchange fire in the arena below. For the first few years as a warrant officer, his expertise was used for training recruits. His duties typically composed of inspecting bunks, enforcing discipline, training new biotics, and teaching basic tactical analysis to squad leaders. It was uncomfortable to revisit so many old sights from the perspective of the late Morozov.

Alice no doubt would’ve still gone through the training process, but he could’ve refused. Morozov offered the option and he passed it over, affixed on the excitement of the military ranks amid an unexplored galaxy. He could’ve become a doctor. At least that’s what it felt like his father had been pushing him towards. Or maybe he should’ve taken something up on his own. The archeological division at the original Exodus Project could’ve used another set of hands. The romantic sensation of ancient alien findings was just as rewarding.

Returning his attention to the squads below, his hand whipped out a datapad to start scrawling notes. He’d have to give pointers after the match to the team that just left. Suddenly, his pen just stopped dead center of the notes. His hesitation had welled back up from the earlier conversation he was having with himself and he had to take a seat on a nearby bench. Every now and then, the self-doubt returned, and it did little else than distract him.

Perhaps it he should’ve switched careers all the same. Jump to something like prosthetics and implants works and run into someone new. Even with the time nanites afforded, there was no reason he should be down and out like this for so long. Maybe if he hadn’t been moping around this long over a single dead fiancé, he could’ve gotten more done in the span of thirty years. It all came back to the artifact.

After she mentioned a ‘Nazara’ before their last fight, Terry poured into what she could’ve meant. It didn’t mean anything in any of the non-human languages, it wasn’t associated with any of the more known brands or organizations, and the handful of professionals in ancient linguistics he did talk with didn’t make heads or tails of it either. And as much as he would’ve loved nothing more for it to be such, it wasn’t asari either.

As far as anyone could’ve told him, it was a pointless combination of sounds into a word that admittedly sounded intimidating. It was nebulous enough to give him goosebumps without so much as knowing what the name belonged to. His mind continued to dwell on the thought, constantly wondering who this faceless individual was, what they were after, and what had they done to their various victims. What had they hoped for in stretching their victims into nightmares or plunging them into madness?

His thoughts abruptly ended at the familiar buzz of the match-end indicator. He rushed back to the window to see how the match concluded, practically pressing his face against the glass. A pang of guilt washed over Terry as he realized he didn’t have a complete layout of the match and couldn’t give a conclusive analysis to the recruits who were just finishing up. Then again, his few notes were enough to give at least some pointers.

* * *

**March 11, 2128**

**Terran Frigate _Loki_ in orbit over Namakli / Zaherin System / Pylos Nebula**

For once, Terry took a backseat to the combat down below. The Hierarchy gave them a tip off about one of the vorcha settlements below and he’d been assigned to handle it. Since his promotion, he’d taken up the position as executive officer aboard the vessel and was given second-in-command of the personnel aboard. He’d been monitoring the situation below, but the mission had effectively concluded, and he found an opportune time to make a couple calls.

Carol and Jeremy made their way into a state-owned space exploration firm. They fitted into different departments, but they kept in contact with each other all the same. Carol worked on making prefabs for the commonwealth exploration teams. Her previous expertise flushing out numerous shrimp nests did provide some essential insight to reinforcing the prefab exteriors. Jeremy worked down at security and his days were spent anticipating and safeguarding against outsider and potential insider threats.

“What is work exactly like nowadays for you, Carol?”

_‘Mostly, I’m working to find a design that will not only minimize damage dealt by heat and acid, but also find a way to make it compact and easy to move. What about you?’_

“Sitting on my ass, filing reports, and giving orders to ground troops either directly or indirectly. I still do get to see some action on and off depending on how my captain feels that day.”

_‘And the medbay?’_

“I got someone underneath me who manages that, but I’m still needed out in the field when the going gets rough.”

_‘Then why do you sound so bored?’_

“I’m _not_ bored,” he insisted.

_‘You are. I recognize that look on your face. You-’_ A small buzz followed by a notification came up on his monitor.

“Ah, the fireteam finally got back. Listen, I’m going to have to let you go. I’ll call you back later when I can, okay?”

_‘Not tonight. I’m heading off to bed soon. We’ll try to reconvene in a week’s time.’_

“See you later, Carol.” The call went amicably enough. Neither Carol nor Jeremy pestered him with the same egging quandaries that Roland did, and as such their friendships still held much better. Perhaps Roland just asked the hard questions for all three of them and he just passed along the answers so they wouldn’t have to pry them out the hard way. His fingers tapped the keys into the console for the call on hold. “Warrant Officer Miller speaking. Talk to me.”

_‘Bravo-Nine is back sir. You wanted to see them?’_

“I do. Thanks for the heads-up.” He swung around in his seat and stood back up. Terry maintained contact with Bravo-Nine on their way to the small vorcha encampment. As expected from turian reconnaissance, the vorcha inhabitants had been distorted into grotesque caricatures with elongated limbs and bulky prosthetics. Through the troopers’ helmet cameras, his eyes couldn’t divert from the horrors on display.

These monstrosities displayed greater ranged capabilities. Whatever had been done to the vorcha, they know lept from rooftop to rooftop with speed and ease, not only gaining a height advantage over the terran troops but making themselves significantly harder to hit. The situation worsened when they began equipping rocket launchers, raining hell on the platoon. Much of the platoon sent down to the camp didn’t make it back.

The hanger was already filled with maintenance men, bringing the survivors and their retrieved price out of the ship. “How many are left?”

The corporal seemed to waver back and forth like he was struggling to find balance. No doubt he was still experiencing the shock of the mission. “Just three of us, sir. The rest are wasted.”

“And the package?”

Four technicians came up behind the corporal with a large safe. “It’s been contained, at least from what I can tell.”

“Good. I’ll get another squad down to the surface to retrieve the dead and that the package is safely stored until we can get it to a lab for proper observation. In the meantime, get to medical quarantine to have the doctor look you over. I’ll be along shortly.”

His gaze couldn’t have snapped back to him faster. “I beg your pardon, sir?”

“Medical quarantine. Now.”

“We’re not infected, sir.”

“Since you’ve been in close proximity with the device while exposed, I’ll determine that personally. Do I need to have you restrained or not?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” he trembled before slogging off.

In the meantime, Terry continued to issue orders and followed the crew to the cargo hold. They’d been equipped with a safe with reinforced lead lining as a preventative means of further infection among the crew. Since Omega, they hadn’t seen another instance of an outbreak of this nature until now. Lingering close behind the maintenance men, he watched the helmet footage again up until the point where the surviving platoon members first made eye-contact with the device.

It was bigger this time, roughly a meter in height. The artifact almost looked like it could’ve been a trophy given at a vid festival. The material was gunmetal gray and depicted an abstract form of a woman lifting into the air a small sphere. The sphere had red lines etched into its surface that held a consistent glow. It didn’t pulsate like the last one, but it did make him suspicious of the artifact’s similar origins. The crew strapped the safe down firmly against the floor plating. “There. Safe’s secure, sir.”

“Good. As you were.” The others left him to his lonesome by the safe. Cautiously, Terry looked over his shoulders, careful of wary eyes. Getting onto a knee, his fingers brushed lightly against the door. Mentally, he made a quiet vow. If not to whatever ethereal entity peered at him through the artifact, then to himself.

This nebulous foe had a penchant for sewing chaos and acting indirectly through people distorted into madness. For Terry, he didn’t care what other nightmares they threw at him. They robbed him. Even if it would be another century until they truly revealed themselves, he would see to it that he got his pound of flesh in return. And they would know they couldn’t have made a graver mistake than toying with the likes of him.

His pager buzzed. _‘Officer Miller? You wanted to have a look at the survivors?’_

He brought the omnitool out. “Of course. I’ll be but a moment.”


	18. Show Them Valor

_This op’s already FUBAR. Got shot down on our way in to slaver encampment by a SAM turret tucked away under the dense foliage. A few days back, we picked up a distress signal from a captured Flotilla ship. The captain decided to take the initiative and send us in. I probably should’ve had the hindsight to come out here with more than a singular recon shuttle. Most of the guys were injured, so I only took a couple with me and checked out the compound proper while they got long-range comms working again. I have no plans of dying now, or this would be a shitty way to wrap up this journal._

* * *

**April 17, 2134**

**Pragia / Dakka System / Nubian Expanse**

Another sniper round clipped the side of Terry’s barriers just as he dove behind a rock. His last surviving backup wasn’t nearly as lucky, having around tear clean through what was left of his barriers and clean through his helmet’s visor. He’d have to retrieve the bodies later as the sniper that caught wind of his team and the compound just ahead took greater precedence. Now, he was truly alone. The shuttle crashed a way out and was out of the range of his suit telecommunications. Trying to run back would not only signify the mission as a pyric defeat but leave him incredibly vulnerable to the sniper’s incoming fire.

Either visual cloaking implants or a suit-integral equivalent would’ve been a welcome addition right now, but it was too late for that. He quickly peaked around the edge of the rock at the slaver compound ahead. It looked to be just short of ninety meters over uneven terrain, massive foliage, and the ever-watchful eye of a particularly good enemy sharpshooter. Another round chipped at the side of the rock as he pulled his head back in.

It wasn’t like he didn’t have the tools to close the distance. His nanites would work as his best extra layer of protection to close the distance with the base and his biotics could be used to catapult himself forward at least a few times. With that in mind, he only needed to ‘run’ half the imagined distance. However, he only had eight seconds to waddle around before the depleted his energy reserves and this would leave him vulnerable to any patrolling bandits by the outside wall of the base. That said, he still trusted his armor to hold up until his biocells recuperated.

Smoke grenades probably wouldn’t matter either. The sniper saw them roughly four hundred meters out. No doubt, the jungle had not only allowed them to get that far into the sniper’s effective range, but also gave him the cover he needed to get as close as he had to begin with. All that said, the fact the sniper saw them this far behind dense jungle probably meant they had a thermal scope equipped and no amount of visual occlusion would provide any benefit. But at this range and with him closing fast and under the physical and visual protection of all factors considered, he’d make it.

The nanites coated him in an extra, silvery layer like an ancient European knight of millennia prior and charged through the open. He used his first burst of biotics to catapult him a solid fifteen meters forward. Another sniper round rang out, but he didn’t feel any impact. The second shot caught him mid-jump. The second did dink him along the head, but the round simply ricocheted off the nanite surface with a hard ‘ping.’ The last round dug itself deep into the tree he hid behind just as his nanite layer retracted back into his body. Somewhere in the distance on the other side of the tree, a door opened followed by a batarian barking orders. “Spread out! I want that terran dead!”

Terry slid down into the deep green underbrush to hide. For once, the deep green of his armor proved to be an advantage and would at least make his hunters look twice before firing. A moment of hesitation that would prove advantageous in a fight of wits rather than gunfire. One such victim was the asari that carefully inched around the side of his tree. She hadn’t noticed him initially until she stood almost right on top of him. He lept up, grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against the base of the tree with him. The nanites extended another rectangular, slim blade from his wrist and stabbed through her head before she could issue a cry for help.

His strength was gradually returning and the fatigue from wading through dense jungle began to fade. Three more had their backs turned towards him and he made no short work whittling down their shields. The first two died to gunfire and he executed the third ramming them to the ground and giving their head a few good stomps. The batarian commander returned fire in short order, prompting Terry to yank him forward out of cover to meet him with a nanite blade.

With the pirate’s neckpiece in his gauntlet, he gouged out all four eyes in the batarian’s head, causing him to squeal like a pig. He proceeded to clean up the pirate by plunging the blade deep into his forehead before dropping it to the jungle floor. The pirate commander had a keycard on their hip, and he took the leisure of removing it from the dead pirate’s possession. The door the pirates exited the facility from reopened with an ominous grind of hydraulics. It didn’t seem like the pirates were anticipating any intruders to have made it this far into the compound.

The first few rooms provided no such resistance to his intrusion. The pirates inside were either working on other duties or preparing additional armaments for anyone who would’ve followed up his initial incursion assuming he died outside. One such group was playing a game of cards around an underlit table when he burst in and shot all four pirates present. Shortly after, the alarm went off and the whole base filled with blaring red lights and the mechanical screech of buzzers. By now, they would’ve heard the initial gunshots or found the first bodies.

No doubt a good number of them would be conglomerating inside of an armory elsewhere. All along the way, more pirates of every stripe and species came out to greet him. They outnumbered him significantly, making him play to the strength of the tight, compact corridors around him. The pirates could only face him a couple at a time, already limiting the number of enemies he had to worry about at any given moment. Furthermore, it forced them into a much closer-range combat, where his superior bodily strength, biotics, and nanites could be used to much greater effect.

One encounter included a medium-sized locker room where the pirates had barricaded themselves in with various armaments including a heavy machinegun on a tripod facing out a slit in the door. Much of the inside of the base was designed to have multiple tight corridors with rooms that could be converted into pillboxes. It left little in the way of getting in, but even fewer options for getting out. Closing the distance with the room was the easiest, deflecting rounds with a basic biotic wall. Flushing out the opposition was simply a matter of lobbing a couple cooked grenades through the slit and ducking briefly before detonation.

The fighting continued to the holding cell block where all the quarians were penned up. Across the three levels of the block, the captors had set up additional defenses including portable walls in anticipation. Working through the ground level would be disadvantageous and only leave him vulnerable to the higher levels. Either way, he’d be forced to move sooner or later as the doorway was pelted with heavy fire. “There he is! Take him down!”

Instantly, Terry reignited his nanite shield and bolted for a stairwell to the higher levels of the prison area. There were a couple of heavies with LMGs and shotguns towards the top, but his biggest concern was the marksmen at the top. The marksmen weren’t prepared for close quarters engagements and he either gunned them down on sight or tackled them and lodged a blade firmly between the chinks in their armor. The heavies had been situated on the second level and were starting to close in on him from the level below, firing their weapons as they moved. Killing them was a matter of yanking them over the railing with his biotics and either slamming him down himself or letting gravity do the rest. 

“Goddess dammit! He’s one guy! Get up there and kill him!” On the other side of the top floor, the security booth was in sight. Down below, the other pirates were starting to make their way up to him, albeit pressured by the asair issuing orders among them. In the booth, he hastily looked for anything he could leverage against the slavers. As the slavers reached the top level, he tossed several tear gas grenades to throw them into disarray. Most of them were scratching at their necks and clutching fists to mouths when he walked up and gunned each one down individually.

With some brief form of reprieve at least secured, he returned to the booth and opened all the cell doors from the control console. The chamber filled with the sound of metal doors clanging open followed by the bustling noise of at least a hundred quarians exiting their holding pens and searching for loved ones. Reaching for the microphone, he requested, “Whoever of you is the leader, could you please quickly meet me in the booth overhead?”

Terry turned back to the locker he pulled the gas grenades from and sifted through some of the other supplies. He was starting to run out of thermal clips, and he greedily slotted new ones into the now empty magazines he still held in his ammo pouches like a child at a candy store. A quarian elder rushed up behind in, cupping his hands nervously. “Thank you! I can’t thank you enough! With all those guards, I thought…”

“Your concern is appreciated, but I’ve dealt with worse odds before. Is everyone in your party alright? Anyone hurt?”

“No. We surrendered amicably enough hoping the Flotilla would send help. I didn’t think the Commonwealth would deem us worthy of a rescue.”

“We were on patrol when we picked up your distress signal, Captain…” He hadn’t gotten the quarian’s name and put out a hand as if to ask.

“I’m Captain Faal’Zorah vas Rayya. And are you sending help… Miller?” The officer eyed the name etched onto his suit chest plate.

“My squad and I got downed less than a klick from here. They’re trying to reestablish comms. Tried making it on foot here when my squad got picked off by a sniper on the way in. Once my squad reestablishes long-range communications, I’ll do everything I can to get your people back to the Flotilla.” A female quarian rushed in moments later, panting. “Faal! I can’t find Rael!”

The captain pushed past Terrence with anxiety. “What? Have you checked all the levels?”

“I have! He’s not here!”

“Which reminds me, I still have the rest of this compound to secure,” Terry interrupted. “Lock the doors to this prison block and keep your people safe. Don’t let anyone in until I give the all-clear.” He hurried back to the railing outside the booth, lumbered over the side, and slowed his fall with a biotic bubble. The hallways were suddenly much quieter. Either he killed all the pirates, or they had completely withdrawn from the area. It took a fair bit of wandering until he reached what looked like a drydock with the hanger doors set in the ceiling.

The pirates’ ship was still at rest and had numerous fueling line hooked up to it. At the base, a salarian was at the center talking with only eight other pirates. The krogan in the group had a quarian child squirming in his arms. The kid was adorned with gray adolescence’s envirosuit continued to grumble. “Anyone else responding?”

“No one. We’re it. Let’s just book it.”

“How many are there? It seriously can’t just be one lone terran flushing out the entire compound.”

The salarian huffed and crossed his arms. “We’re not sticking around to find out. I’d appreciate it if you had refueled the ship earlier like I had asked. Now finish up and let’s get out of here.”

Terry quietly rolled in a smoke grenade outside of the group. While they were initially panicked, he took a few potshots and gunned down three before they could make for cover. The krogan dropped the kid and pulled a shotgun before charging him. In response, he catapulted himself into the krogan with a biotic ripple, knocking the pirate onto his back. The blade reextended from his gauntlet before slashing the krogan’s head open like an axe chopping a tree. The smoke had started to fill the area, dropping visibility significantly.

He continued to pick the others off with relative ease until the salarian leading the group was left. Since the fight began, he’d scooped up Rael and used the child as a human shield. Dropping the second to last of the bandits, Terry rolled into cover and loaded a fresh magazine into his rifle. “Alright, you terran freak! Here’s what’s going to happen! You let me leave on my ship or the quarian child dies!”

“Help! Help!”

His heart started racing as his window of opportunity closed. Of all the things he wasn’t ready to do, he wasn’t going to be responsible for answering to Rael’s parents when they find out the salarian blew his brains out while he tried to escape. Terry’s rifle flew from his hands with a distinct metal clang on the floor. “Good. Now step out and tell your friends to stand down!”

“Relax. It’s just me left.” All he needed was the salarian to have his guard down. Slowly tanding from cover, he had his left hand up in surrender. At full height, it was revealed he was only using the arm for counterbalance. Balled in his other hand was a stick of nanites formed into a blade with a weighted, bulkier end. Turning to the salarian, he tossed the blade with all his strength, nailing the pirate clean through the right eye.

Rael screamed as the dead bandit dropped him and watched in horror as the corpse fell on top of him. Terry rushed to his side, shoved the corpse off, and retrieved the blade. “Hey, it’s alright! You’re safe now.”

The young quarian trembled. “I just want my mom and dad back.”

“And they’re safe too. Let’s get you back to them.” On the way out of the hanger, he picked up and holstered his rifle when his earpiece buzzed back to life.

_‘Officer Miller, are you there? Please respond,’_ his captain demanded.

“This is Miller. Go ahead captain.”

_‘We just got word from your ground team and we’re sending a medivac to evacuate the wounded. Where are you?’_

“I took Laskey and Downes to conduct further recon while the main squad called for backup. Both are KIA. In the meantime, the pirate compound is secure and all quarian captives have been recovered. Do you have a fix on my location?”

_‘Yes, we do. We’re currently entering orbit and are making our way down to you. Stand by for retrieval.’_

“Be careful on your final approach. We were shot down by an automated SAM turret. I’m not sure if they’re automated. I’ll see what I can do from my end to get those shut off. Miller out.”

* * *

**April 17, 2134**

**Terran Frigate _Loki_ , temporarily docked with the Rayya / Migrant Fleet**

“I appreciate the help you’ve given my people, Warrant Officer. We had been surveying potential planets for colonization when we were jumped by those pirates. The ship had minimal armaments on it, so I simply dropped a distress signal in hopes that the Migrant Fleet would’ve picked it up. I hadn’t realized you were so nearby.” Faal’Zorah and the others made it safely back without further incident. Rael had been shaken up and he was hoping that the quarians had medical professionals to see the child through.

“Glad we got to you when we did. Just take care of yourselves.” He followed the two privates who flanked him back into the airlock leading to the connecting tube back onto the _Loki_. The doors opened to reveal the ship’s captain waiting on the other side for them.

“Good, you’re back. Privates, you two are dismissed. I want a word with our XO.” The two only cast a look back at them as they shuffled off down the walkway.

Terry unlocked his helmet and pulled it off his head, feeling the ship jolt as they pulled away from the quarian ship. “You asked to see me, sir?”

“I’m not going to sugar-coat this, Miller. What you did was stupid.” A cold lump formed at the back of his throat. “You ran off understaffed for an objective that should otherwise have killed you. I don’t know how you survived, but you should’ve hung back and awaited reinforcements. Now we got two more in the morgue than we should’ve.”

He fought the temptation to let his gaze dip. “I understand sir, and I apologize.”

“However, I will give you credit for one thing.” The captain’s tone uplifted slightly. “You acted with what little intel you had, and you did nothing short of risking your life for the wellbeing of those captives. After reviewing the footage from your helmet, I’ve come to the decision to forward your name to receive the Parliamentary Gallant Cross. You’ve distinguished yourself over your fellow soldiers and you should hold your chin high with pride.”

A shaky breath escaped his lips and no doubt the captain saw it. “This is an honor, sir. Thank you.”

“As it should be. You are permitted to return to your duties.”


	19. The Sins of our Fathers

_I didn’t make much of the kid when I first met him. He was quiet and had this strange habit of fidgeting with his own talons. Read the profile over the last week in anticipation, gradually getting to know him. He’s had a rough past and I don’t envy him in the slightest. That said, they told me to make him the best I could. I fully intend to do so._

* * *

**Jan 29, 2156**

**Turian Councilor’s Office**

Councilor Abicius had heard stories of her ancestors working alongside the terran soldiers as a child. As an adult, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of envy. Those who did lead long military careers among their species made up a minority of the Commonwealth military force, but those who did either became renowned tacticians or foot soldiers the like rivaled the krogan veterans of the Rebellion. It allowed them to compensate for their numerical disadvantage to a significant extent.

“We’ve been living with cabalists for almost two millennia and we still keep the mandate that they should be kept separate at their own schools like Ardat-Yakshi. No amount of whatever political weight I could throw around would convince the other castes that this is a worth-while sacrifice,” Primarch Lintius dismissed.

“I’m not proposing we incorporate their biology and I’m honestly shocked this is what you thought I was implying. What I want is their expertise.”

“And how do you propose that?”

“Eight decades ago, we arranged a little favor for them to get them out of their absurd would-be conflict with the Hegemony. Simply put, they have nothing they could offer us to compensate. Besides, this little exchange is just as hypothetical in nature as their truce. The batarians have been sharpening their knives since that conflict and this could very well end up the same way. But I had plans for the long-term.”

“I’m not sure I follow.”

“I know we have our own military dogma, but the terrans are incredibly creative with military scenarios. I want members among our own ranks who can do the same. We just need one soldier of not necessarily high withstanding in the Hierarchy to serve as an apprentice under the tutelage of say one of their more infamous soldiers. Once our contribution returns, a few years from now they can spread their knowledge to other would-be officers and recruits. Indirectly, we could have an entire generation of the finest soldiers and Spectres this century.”

“And they would agree to this?”

“Again, we’re trading one relatively small favor for another. And they might see this as them getting the bigger end of the deal. They couldn’t possibly refuse.”

The Primarch leaned back in his chair and swiveled around, contemplating. “Alright. What did you have in mind?”

“Last week, I was sorting through our most recent Spectre recruits.” The Spectres continued to be the infamous acting hand of the Council. The policies set by the governing body seemed more like suggestions until mention of the Spectres was brought into consideration. They operated across the galaxy, were effectively above the law, and composed of the greatest hand-picked operatives from a multitude of military organizations across each species represented by the Council. “What I wanted was a one-on-one string of missions over the course of the year. Since we’re choosing a non-Specter to train him, I would hand-pick the missions and send the two to do the rest.”

“Have you chosen one?”

“I have. How does this suit you?” The Councilor pulled up the file on her datapad and handed it to the Primarch.

His subvocals grumbled in curiosity. “General Desolas’ fledgling brother? He’s barely a year into service and he’s already been put forward for the Spectres?”

“I’ve read his superiors’ reports. He shows such promise,” she hummed like the boy was her own child.

* * *

**Feb 22, 2156**

**Spectre Requisitions Office / Citadel Embassies**

Cabalist Saren Arterius sat on the bench, habitually twiddling his thumbs nervously. He stood at average height for a turian his age and had bleach-white plates, sharp blue eyes, and an elongated fringe. The longer fringe was considered ugly among turians and he was often ridiculed growing up for the look. The harassment was worsened by his status as a barefaced and his older brother’s belittling.

Ever since their parents died while he was a toddler, Desolas quickly took him for granted and he experienced little-brother syndrome throughout school. Before their deaths, they’d moved to one of the more backwater turian colonies where he grew up at an orphanage. Like every other turian, he entered the service at the age of fifteen and proved himself to be exceptional early on. It irritated him how others seemed to recognize him exclusively through his familial connection through Desolas.

For Saren, the Spectres was a welcome change. For once, it meant he wasn’t living in his brother’s shadow and was free to define himself more distinctly. However, he was nervous about meeting this new instructor. The only thing his superiors had given him was a name and a brief list of his combat record. In recent years, the mentor had been building up his reputation with a steady pile of heavily redacted missions. The terrans didn’t give out their information for free and it honestly surprised him they agreed to have him meet the captain. The asari receptionist stepped in and eyed him. “Saren Arterius? The captain is ready to meet you.”

“Of course, ma’am.” Saren took a shaky breath and followed her out. At the front lobby, Commander Vicnius had his back to him and was in the middle of a conversation with his new mentor.

“Ah, here he is right now, actually. Cabalist Arterius, this is Captain Miller. He’ll be your new commanding officer for the next year.” Terrence Miller stood just above average turian height and was heavily adorned in dark green armor. On his left shoulder pad was several marks etched into the paint and metal underneath. The terran captain’s hands reached up and removed the helmet upon his head, drawing attention to an unusual blot of red and black above where the left eye would’ve been behind his visor. His hair roughly went down to his neck and had been slicked and combed back in strands of black, almost like an asari’s fringe. There was a thin line of hair all around his mouth too, thinly hiding a scar across the right side of his lip. His yellow eyes looked like they burned like a branding iron.

Miller tilted his head, inspecting Saren. “Hmm. I was under the impression this boy would be older.”

“He’s exceptionally sharp for an adolescent his age. There’s no need to pressure him already.”

“I’m aware he’s been harassed by his teammates before. A little more mental strain is all I ask of him. At any rate, pleasure to meet you, cabalist. I look forward to working with you.”

Saren jumped when he extended his hand in a welcoming gesture. Captain Miller partially resembled one krogan he had a foul run-in with and looked like he could easily crush his plates in with even greater efficiency. “Um… l-likewise, captain.” His subvocals betrayed his nervousness and he thanked the Spirits few other species could hear at the necessary frequency.

Vicnius handed off a datapad to the captain. “Anyways, you will be assigned a Spectre shuttle for your deployments and Cabalist Arterius will debrief with the Council in private when need be. You will be providing tactical guidance and backup for him out on the field like you would any student. Any research or off-field work necessary of his position will be on him, but you’re free to provide any expertise should he require it. Also, during some downtime, tips on controlling his biotics would also prove helpful. Do you have any other questions?”

“Will the boy or I be picking assignments?”

“Mission specifics will be forwarded directly to Arterius. From there, he’ll be setting course for whatever destinations from the shuttle pilot cabin.”

“Very well. I can take it from here.”

“Thank you, captain. Maybe a bit of you will rub off on him.”

Miller’s face disappeared back underneath the silvery visor of his helmet. “We’ll see. Let’s get a move on.”

* * *

**Feb 26, 2156**

**Spectre Shuttle en route to Omega / Sahrabarik / Omega Nebula**

Saren continued to sit at the pilot’s seat, even though he easily could’ve set it to autopilot and took an extra nap in his bunk. Spectres were provided all the latest technology and the shuttle itself was designed to compensate for the lack of additional personnel. There was everything he would’ve needed on the tub from an auto-chef to cleaning bots. All the same, he preferred to remain busy if it meant distracting from Miller’s presence.

The terran took up a seat further back in the cabin and out of his sight, but he could still feel his gaze all the same. They hadn’t exchanged word since they boarded the shuttle and Saren wasn’t looking forward to making small talk with him. He found it was beneficial to remain reclusive given his upbringing. People couldn’t mock or jeer him if he never even spoke to them in the first place. Except he could feel Miller all the same. The terran captain had a certain aura about him like the gravitational well of a gas giant.

“How’s the service been treating you so far?” The vocal filter on his helmet added an extra gravely layer onto his voice, followed by light mechanical echo like he was making a holocall.

The question shouldn’t have been that hard, but the nerves tugged at him like it was a job interview. “I… um…”

“Let me rephrase that. Your file was a bit light on the specifics. What action have you seen into your first year?”

“Right… mostly counter-terror ops. Got a recommendation after a bomb defusal.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. What other innate skills?”

“Received some heavy weapons training a couple months back. Familiar with all the usual suspects and I’ve been trying to extend into tech and software use. My biotics didn’t develop until a year before basic and I’m still getting used to them.”

“Understood. After this current assignment, I will want to see what you’re capable of before we leave Omega. This ship isn’t exactly a good place to practice.” Miller started scrawling on his omnitool and paused midway. “Have any friends or family back at home?”

Of all the questions he could’ve asked, he just had to ask that. “Not really. Sorta got discourage early on from making friends.”

“Family?”

“Only my older brother Desolas. He’s seven years older than me.”

The captain paused a little longer. “Girlfriend?”

He felt a bit flustered and was sure his neck started to blush blue. “Not yet. Had an eye on a girl I met before basic.”

There was an audible grunt. “Been there.” The silence returned shortly after.

* * *

**Feb 27, 2156**

**Omega / Sahrabarik / Omega Nebula**

“Ever been here before, Arterius?”

“No, sir.”

“Stick close. Don’t wander down any alleyways, don’t make eye-contact with anyone for longer than a couple seconds, and cast a glance over your shoulder every now and then. And don’t start a fight you don’t have to. If you want a chance to show ‘em whose boss, give yourself enough time to develop so you can curbstomp all of them.”

“Curbst… what?”

“Terran jargon. Just wait till you’re too good for them to stop.”

“Okay.” Saren eyed the tall buildings surrounding him. Having grown up on a more rural planet, metropolitan landscapes somewhat terrified him. It made him feel so infinitely small, like being a fish staring into the gaping maw of some infinitely bigger sea-beast.

“Who’s our target?”

“Local terran drug runner. He’s been smuggling narcotics deep into Citadel space for a couple years now.”

“Where’s he held up?”

“Unknown. They said to press the locals for an answer.”

“What sort of regalia are his gang members wearing?”

Saren’s talons pressed a few keys on his datapad. “Green with white markings along the shoulder pads. Looks like a thresher maw.”

“You good at picking out heads from a crowd?”

“I know how to spot out movement in deep foliage at five hundred meters.”

“Start sifting. Let me know when you see something.”

Much of the poverty on the former mining station reminded Saren much of his childhood home on Quadim. Trash piling up on street corners, the sick and homeless aimlessly wandering, and the abundance of poor housing conditions. What was different was the replacement of open hills and vistas being replaced with dark alleys, bars, and high-rises. There was also an additional layer of crime and other species sprinkled on top. Looking down an alley, there was a couple of mercenaries matching the visual description provided. “Captain, back here.”

Miller sharply turned and followed his gaze. “Good. You worked with interrogations before?”

“No.”

“Let me handle it.” The captain strolled up casually like he would’ve to an old friend. “Gentlemen, I heard your business was in specialty goods and I’m looking to buy. Care to fill me in?”

The salarian and turian eyed him with suspicion. “What do you want, terran?”

“Relax, I killed the previous owner of this suit. It’s surprisingly comfortable. Anyways, you guys selling?”

The salarian stepped forward. “Who’s asking?”

“An interested investor, looking to expand his trade. C’mon, throw me a line.”

The other stepped forward with pistol drawn on the captain. “You’re acting awfully chipper. A little too chipper for my liking.”

“Well, I tried playing nice,” Miller sighed. His hand snatched the gunman’s wrist and shoved it to the side as it fired a shot. He butted an elbow into the turian’s nose and shoved a clenched fist into the salarian’s chest. The salarian gang member hit the wall behind him and started to slide down when the captain’s hand snatched him by the neck. “Talk. Where can I find your boss? I want to do business.”

The gangster struggled to breath, clutching at his tightly wound fingers. “I’m holding my tongue!”

“Perhaps this will loosen that jaw.” His other fist slammed into the segment of wall centimeters away from the gang member’s head, causing him to scream.

“Stop! Stop! I’ll pass the address! Hundred and fourth district! Hundred and fourth district!” His hands quickly popped open his omnitool and pulled open a map.

“There. That wasn’t so hard. Now take a load off. You’ve had a rough evening.” His fist drew back again and slammed against the salarian’s stomach before he dropped him to the ground to recoil in pain. “Let’s go before he books it.”

Saren partially recoiled from the act. “Captain, are you sure that’s even viable intel?”

He couldn’t see the captain’s expression through the reflective visor, but it sounded like dull irritation. “Pain causes the subject to spout whatever’s convenient. Threats will more reliably get them to spit out the truth. The faster they say it, the more accurate it is. Keep that in mind.”

“Uh… I see…”

* * *

The captain pointed down from a rooftop at a two-floored sheet-metal building. The back connected to what may have been a warehouse or hanger. “There. Looks to be a lab.”

“What’s your approach on this?”

“You mentioned you had some skill with a tool?”

“Yes, captain.”

“When we get down there, lock the front doors. We’ll find an entrance through a fire exit or something. It’ll keep them boxed in for long enough to ensnare the target. Best to cut off as many exits for him as possible.”

“And what of the lab workers?”

“Did the dossier mention them?”

“No, captain.”

“Then they’re not our concern. Let’s get going. We’ve got a job to do.” Miller led him down the fire escape down the side of the building and across the busy street without incident. Saren got to work on the door panels, locking each one tight and scrambling the key codes. Finishing with the doors, they found a patch of unattended room on an adjoining part of the compound. The captain lept on top with surprising ease. “You coming Arterius?”

“Captain, that’s a bit out of my reach.”

“I thought you were a biotic.”

“I’m not that good yet, sir.”

His visor glinted in the darkness as he knelt over the edge. “Now’s the time to try and focus that then. You just need a concentrated downward force to repel yourself upward. It’s basic physics.”

He took a deep breath, looking nervously at the filthy floor underneath him. His arms glowed with a blue discharge and he tucked his legs. The upward momentum put him high enough to at least get a foot onto the roof, but he didn’t have the forward momentum necessary to connect. Saren flailed his arms, trying to grab the ledge when he was wrapped in another biotic field. The captain lifted him in and put him gently down on the roof. “You’ve got the know-how to do it. I’ll give you that.”

They broke through a window on their floor and started shooting the unsuspecting gangsters inside. It looked like they had broken into a finance office and the gangsters inside had been ill prepared for a sudden attack. The office was very open with large windows overlooking the inside of the narcotic workshop. More guards poured in from a doorway out of the room, only making it a couple of steps inside before getting gunned down. Captain Miller had been in the middle of reloading when a gang member tossed a grenade into the room. Saren snatched up the grenade with his biotics and tossed it aside, unwittingly tossing it through the window behind them into the workshop.

The bomb detonated causing some unseen gas canister to detonate. A fire ignited and started to spread from the other chemicals present in the lab. He looked through the lab in mortified horror, watching the workers scramble for safety. They rushed to whatever opening they could reach when he was suddenly yanked back to the ground. Miller shot a couple more guards before standing back up. “Let’s go! The target’s no doubt heard the gunfire!”

“Captain, I accidently set the lab on fire!”

“Not our problem. Move it!”

“They’re burning in there and we locked them in! We have to help them!”

“Their well-being means nothing if the target escapes, Arterius! Our window won’t stay open forever.” Saren cast one more look over his shoulder, watching the flames spread and as the various workers down below barred their fists against the doors desperately for a way out. His subvocals trembled guiltily as he turned for the door, trying to push the image and sound out of his mind.

The rest of the path to the bigger portion of the compound wasn’t unlike anything he hadn’t seen before. He was familiar with either boarding or defending against boarders, and he followed easily in the captain’s footsteps. The gangsters were on their backfoot and retreating to a large chamber. At the center was a gunship preparing to depart the facility and the doors overhead were opening to let it out. More gunfire pelted their position, prompting Miller to put up a biotic wall to cover their rush to an arms locker nearby.

Saren peaked from cover, gradually trying to pick off more of the gang members, but he was steadily aware of the gunship preparing to lift off. “Arterius, you said you had received heavy weapons training?” the captain yelled over the fighting.

He pulled his head back down and ejected the expended thermal clip and looked to Miller. The terran had brought over a light anti-tank launcher from the other side of the room. “What did you have in mind, sir?”

“Ground that thing before it books it. I’ll cover you.”

His talons lightly fumbled with the weapon as he extended the scope and slung it over his shoulder. Peering over cover, he set the sight over the gunship’s thrusters and pulled the trigger. It spun around in a fireball and crashed right back where it started in a hazy explosion. The gunfire died down shortly after as the remaining gangsters either fled or died. 

They approached the crash site cautiously, inspecting for survivors. The hatch on the pilot’s seat popped from the emergency latch and clattered off to the side to reveal the ship’s driver. He’d been pinned to the seat with a stray metal rod and was bleeding profusely. “Is that our guy?”

“Yes, sir… that’s him.” His mandibles fluttered nervously. “What now, sir?”

The captain scoffed. “What are you waiting for? Finish him off.”

“We’re… we’re not going to apprehend him?”

“In case you forgot, our shuttle doesn’t have a brig and there’s no real authority to hand him off to this deep into the Terminus. Or are you out of thermal clips.”

“Captain, we’re not assassins.”

Miller groaned incredulously. “Are you really going to lecture me on ethics, cabalist? No matter how you look at it, this guy makes a living hurting people back in civilized space. You want to minimize the flow of ugliness into the galaxy, you cut this guy out of the equation. Now what are you waiting for?” He didn’t answer. He pulled his sidearm out, but he only stared at it. “Fine, take your time. I’ll check around for stragglers.”

He wandered off, leaving Saren alone. This wasn’t how he thought being a Spectre played out. His superiors had given him a much more romanticized vision typical of the recruitment process. This didn’t feel like justice. It felt like putting down an injured pet.

Then the thought of justice returned to what Miller told him. That improving the galaxy as he knew it started with taking out what was bad and what it meant to be a Spectre. He was effectively asked to do the Council’s dirty laundry as it were and serve as judge, jury, and executioner. And the sentiment worsened with the thought of the burning lab workers not a hundred meters from where he stood. But the good will was still there. Even with a rather one-dimensional practice of justice, the outcome was the same. It was still a better outcome to have injustice removed outright. It meant the galaxy after was better than the galaxy before.

Eventually, Saren put the reticle on the dying gangster’s head and fired.


	20. Chapter 20

_Today marks the start of the sixth month started. It’s all easy going, surprisingly. The missions are typically uncomplicated. Nothing I haven’t handled before and it’s honestly fun to show Arterius the ropes. Afterwards, they’re spaced out relatively evenly based on how long it takes to reach the next bit of space. I’ll admit that his attempt at maintaining his moral upstanding is admirable if not misplaced. Maybe we’ll get to do some wetwork while we’re together. It’ll shake him up a fair bit._

* * *

**Feb 28, 2156**

**Omega / Sahrabarik / Omega Nebula**

Terry had been drilling him non-stop for an hour, not even taking the time to strip off his armor. A couple hours earlier, he’d moved some shipping crates around in the hanger and put Saren to work either scaling the boxes or lifting them with his biotics. It was obvious the kid only knew the basics and he went about teaching the turian more advanced tricks for mobility. “Captain, my legs aren’t as robust as yours!” Saren had been directed to stand atop a pile of crates and was looking down at roughly a five-meter drop.

“You’re not landing with your _legs_ ; you’re using the same tricks that you’ve been using to get up there in the first place. Think of it as creating drag or gravitational friction.”

“I… what?”

“Think of it as prying at two walls facing parallel to each other on either side of you.”

“Hey, you Captain Miller?” A batarian strolled in through the door with a couple vorcha flanking him.

He cast a snarl back. “Yeah. Who’s asking, four-eyes?”

“Aria. She wanted a brief word with you at Afterlife.”

“I’ll get to it. Bit busy right now.”

“That’s not a request.”

Terry paused after the last bit, staring clean into the batarian with daggers for eyes. “And if I don’t.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would.”

“And the kid?”

“Leave him out of this.”

“Then get a move on.”

“Fine. Arterius, if I’m not back in twelve hours, just book it back to Citadel space. If anyone comes back without me, tell them to turn back. Forcibly if they refuse.” His helmet slid back onto his head and his hand scooped up his rifle, slinging it onto his back.

The three drew their guns. “You won’t need that.”

“It’s the price for my cooperation.”

The vorcha continued to snarl but the batarian ordered the others to relent. “Very well. You can’t take down all of us.”

“I’d like to see you try.” 

He hadn’t been to the nightclub before. It was noticeable on the skyline the few other times he’d been to the station, but he hadn’t taken the time to take a peek. The line in front of the bouncer had been enough of a deterrent. The front entryway had leather benches outlined by the glows of the telescreens fitted on the walls. Thematically, the fire of the screens and the dull orange glow of the interior lighting gave the impression the place was on fire. Inside, the club floor was jam packed with people. Pillars around the center of the chamber had platforms on which the dancers flaunted their physical forms to the patrons below. The sea of people either dancing or otherwise made it difficulty to make his way to the back.

Opposite to the entryway was a pair of stairs leading to a platform overlooking the entire club. The platform had been decked out with a semi-circle leather couch on which the Queen of Omega herself resided during her active times on her throne. She wore tight black leather pants and a white coat that went down to the top of her ribs. Her skin took a purple pigmentation with ornate deep purple markings lining her brows, eyes, and lips. The blue irises of her eyes reflected the orange lighting of the vast chamber. “So, this is the little troublemaker. Having fun?”

“My travel is strictly for business purposes.”

“Hmmm. Death, taxes, and all, I see. You’ve been making quite a ruckus each time you visit. I figured it was just part of the deal with your line of work, but now that you’re alone, it’s clear you’re dragging in the mud.”

“It’s Omega. Last I checked, I’m not adding a whole lot to the daily death toll.”

“The ground turns to ash around you. It’s hard to reach harvest when someone’s sewn salt into the soil. I’d rather you didn’t infringe on my territory.”

“I assume the dead man at the center of that lab downtown was a friend of yours?”

“Regardless of what business they are, they all pay tribute to me. It’s hard to attract new business when you’re destroying all the tourist sites.”

“I’ve got my own business to take care of. Too busy to mind stepping on your toes.”

“Awfully brash, aren’t you.”

“When I first got into medical, I was introduced to the idea my species typically doesn’t live to be as old as I do. This is just how I flaunt my good fortune.”

“Keep that up and I’ll cut that fortune short.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

A silence fell between the two and the guards at her side were clearly itching to draw their weapons. Aria leaned forward in her seat and squinted her eyes at him. “Now that is a courage I don’t see very often. I’ll let you get back to teaching your child. Just keep in mind that the next time you’re on Omega, I’m watching.”

He nodded and turned to the steps. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

* * *

**Aug 24, 2156**

**Aephus Shipyards**

Even after millennia into the Hierarchy’s existence, insurgents of every stripe rose and fell. There was many a reason to secede from the species government and Saren had been very familiar with reasons why. All the same, he believed in the importance of unity among turiankind and dutifully believed the few times he did fight insurgents were just. The fracturing would only continue if they allowed it. No doubt the insurgents were present on Aephus to cripple ship maintenance and manufacturing. The planet had served as the backbone of the Hierarchy navy and was an act no doubt to indirectly aid the insurgent cause.

The local authorities had been informed of the insurgent presence, but Saren and Miller had decided to remain off their radar for the time being. They remained out of contact and out of sight in the hopes they got the drop the bad guys. He gripped the DMR in his hands tightly and adjusted the scope. “Shouldn’t we be a little closer to the action, Miller? At least we should be ready to intercept them.”

They had gotten used to being in each other’s presence over the past months. Since their first meeting, it did bring some comfort to see the captain soften a bit. “That’s the local detachment’s job. Our job is to deal with the bomb. If we just hang back and wait for them to plant it, we’ll easily have enough time to reach it regardless of where its planted. Any closer and we might have to fight our way through the insurgents if our guess is off.”

Nearby was a turian corpse wearing the makeshift garb of the insurgent forces. Miller had caught one straying from the pack earlier shortly after they arrived before quietly taking him down and moving the body away from where the others might’ve caught wind of their presence. Stripping the body of its omnitool, he handed it off to Saren to work with, see if they could either find a message regarding the intended bomb site or intercept enemy communications. He’d been focusing on the tool when he persisted with, “If they’re too much to handle?”

“This probably isn’t the first time they have had to deal with people like these. It’ll be fine. Besides, you’re going to be the special forces guy. That’s not your problem.”

“I think I got something.”

“What did you find?”

“Looks like we’ve got our work cut out. They’re planting charges at the space dock powerplant coolant lines, a bomb on the fueling lines, and a bomb on the overhead crane network.”

“Right. Let’s get to it.” The terran shifted off the spot he’d been sitting and drew his rifle.

“Shouldn’t we split up and try to disarm at least two of the bombs simultaneously?”

“I’m a field medic, not a sapper. I’d end up causing the damned thing to prematurely detonate and I’ll need your expertise on the matter.”

“Fair point. Anyways, a thousand credits say I take home more KIA than you do this mission.”

“I accept, but you probably should’ve gone with something lower. I can’t imagine your pay is high enough to completely absorb such a financial blow and compensate.”

“Not a problem. I can just forward the bill to the Council. Spectre finances have it covered as an operating expense.”

“Tsk tsk tsk. Taxpayer credits at their finest.” They’d rested on a supply intake dock into the facility with the shutters left shut. It was away from the main entrance where the insurgent groups had forced their way into the building. “Let’s see what you’ve learned. Which bomb are we deactivating first?”

“The one on the crane module. It’s the closest from here and the one most isolated from the fighting. Let’s hustle.” The jog through the foundry showed much of the facility was empty. There were a few marks in the concrete walls from rounds fired, but it was apparent the workers fled as soon as trouble arose. Tool had been left strewn about and there hadn’t been any bodies in sight. They took a lift right to the top of the facility and sprinted across the network of catwalks and supportive beams to the large module overhead. At the center of the control room was a large case with a cylinder inside. Affixed on top was a timer like a tie on a present.

“Quite a payload. Can you get it done?”

“I’ve mostly worked with smaller devices, but the principles _should_ be the same.” His omnitool glowed back to life and he hooked up to the timer. The injected software ran its course familiarly enough and continued typing away, working through the timer’s security measures. “There. I’ve also sabotaged the detonator. This device is as inert as a rock.”

“Nicely done. Let’s head to the next one.” The way back wasn’t as uneventful as their initial trip up. Reaching the elevator onto the crane, the elevator car returned with a pair of insurgents coming to investigate. “We’ve got trouble!”

Miller put up a barrier for the two as the first rounds raced to meet them. In turn, Saren peered from the corner and returned fire, gunning one down. The captain dropped his barrier and shoved the other over the railing. “They must’ve been monitoring the bomb remotely. Chances are they suspect something’s up.”

“Then time’s running short.” The terran looked over the railing nervously before hitting the button to return back down. It didn’t appear initially that there was anyone waiting for them at the ground floor, but that could change in an instant. The drydock was open in design, providing minimal cover for hundreds of meters in each direction. In the distance, they could still hear the gunfight between the local authorities and the insurrection militia members and didn’t sound like the fight was letting up in any capacity.

A round pierced his barrier and grazed his armor collar, causing Saren to yelp in pain and panic. “Ah! Shit!”

“We’ve been spotted. Time to take the short way down.” Miller vaulted over the railing and descended.

He could only look down after the captain, feeling his heart rattling his throat like a bell. Taking a few steps back, Saren mustered the courage to follow suit, flailing his arms as his biotics rushed to life. It wasn’t a skill he had mastered fully, and he tumbled off his feet upon landing. Pain jolted up his ankle and shin, but it didn’t feel like any long-lasting damage otherwise before Miller yanked him back to his feet. Shots continued to echo from the distance, and he made for cover. “Right. The fueling lines. Those are our next priority. Those are a few floors back up.”

“Got it. This way.” Avoiding incoming fire, the captain rushed to the door to the stairwell and kicked at the center latch a couple times. After caving in the door, he dug his fingers into the hole and pried it open. Their footfalls echoed throughout the stairway as they rushed up in a heated vigor. They stopped at the door to look at the building schematics. “Where to?”

“Out this walkway further down the right. Still pretty open.”

Voices started to echo up from below. “Looks like we don’t have much time to change our mind. Just book it.” 

They bolted out into the open, continuing to take fire from across the drydock. Every now and then, he’d stop to take a few potshots in return, occasionally nailing a few insurgents with some well-placed shots. The fueling station was a large pump at the end of the path with another bomb container sitting right next to the shut-off valve. “Second verse, same as the first. Cover me.”

More bullets whizzed past, this time from the stairwell they exited from. Miller the barrier while he ducked behind the box of the bomb. The bomb was rendered harmless in short order. “Good work. Where’s the last one?”

“At the front where the coolant is fed into the facility. We’re running short on time.”

“Got it.” Miller sent a shockwave out, knocking the approaching hostiles off their feet and out of cover. He followed the captain, returning fire each step of the way. They were getting into the thick of the fighting now, with local law enforcement finally making an appearance. The two factions had plenty dead lying about now, but the fighting intensified all the same.

The last bomb was at the center of all the fighting. Law enforcement continuously strained the insurgents’ resolve, but the militia pushed back harder, and the timer was preparing to expire. From their position, they had visual sight of the bomb, but there was no way to get through without drawing the attention of upwards of three dozen guns. “There’s no easy way about this,” Miller grumbled.

Saren nodded and peaked again at his own omnitool. “I agree. We’ve got just over a minute to get to that bomb. I’m going for it.”

“Wait! If we fight through now, it’ll take us too long to get to the bomb.”

“I’m still going to let the law enforcement handle the others.” He pulled a couple of smoke grenades off his belt and hurled them into the center of the room. Even as the smoke only started to leak from their canisters, Saren jumped into the room despite Miller’s protests. Only barely remembering where the bomb was, he rushed through blindly, bumping into one of the insurgents along the way.

Falling over, he slid alongside the device and plugged his omnitool in. His eyes glanced at the clock, and the clock etched into his eyes the growing tension with an eerie red glow. He looked back at his tool and continued pressing keys when a barrel brushed against his fringe. His body froze with piercing fear and his talons trembled. “Bad move, kid.”

Whoever it was, they were caught in the continuous crossfire and fell over with a wet thump. With the interruption gone, his tool finished the defusal process. Looking back at the stopped timer, it wasn’t exactly a last-second effort. However, the fact that the clock lingered in the lower teens did put emphasis on how close the fight came to be. The fighting had died down too, with the remaining insurgents being caught in the confusion caused by his smoke grenades. Gunshots still echoed throughout the building, but his job was done.

One of the officers strolled over to the bomb and eyed Saren with surprise. “Hmmm. We weren’t expecting special forces to be present. Nice going.”

He put his tool away, stood up, and brushed himself off. “Thanks, officer. Bomb’s all yours now.”

“Now I’ve taken some riskier runs in my past,” Miller interrupted, “But color me impressed. Nice work, Arterius.”

“Thanks. What’s your final kill tally, captain?”

“Thirty-six. Kept the running count, surprisingly enough. You?”

Saren’s mandibles flapped with pride. “Close, but no creds, captain. Thirty-seven.”

The terran shook his head in disbelief. “What?”

“You heard me captain.”

“How? You were busy defusing the bombs.”

“And you were busy putting up barriers and rushing for cover.”

“Ugh. Shit. You got me, kid.” The pride in Saren’s chest swelled as he received the notification of credits transfer. “Not going to lie. You got me there.”

“Thanks. What’s next?”

“Nothing, really. Our job is done here. Good work. Feel proud of yourself.”


	21. Mines of Madness

_I’ll admit that Saren has grown on me over these past several months. He’s a fast learner too, absorbing much of what I’ve had to offer. The rides between missions have certainly become more interesting too with plenty to fill our discussions. And when it’s not mission discussion with him or the Council, it’s softer topics. Surprisingly enough, he’s also got a knack for horror stories and vids. I should recommend to him The Thing at some point._

* * *

**Nov 20, 2156**

**Spectre shuttle en route to Joab / Enoch System / Rosetta Nebula**

“What about you? Know any good horror vids or stories?” Terrence pressed.

Saren leaned back to consider briefly. “Well, nothing turian I could recommend specifically. It’s been a while since I’ve seen any horror vids myself. It’s an older one, but I would certainly recommend The Marauders.”

It certainly garnered his interest. Terrence leaned forward and added, “Do tell.”

“It’s much lighter on the body-horror, but it’s based around ancient stories that are told to turian pups when their parents put them to bed at night. Ghostly figures who stalk all the bad children and drag them off to Spirits-knows-where. They use the silhouette of a turian to catch the bad child off-guard. You don’t see it’s actually a ghost until they draw close.”

“A basic premise, but I do like it.”

“Yeah. You can’t see all the fangs, extra eyes, and flailing tendrils until they’re in arms’ reach. Then their arms and legs extend to be much longer than they should before snatching you up and running back to the darkness.”

“Like body-snatchers, huh?”

“Body-snatchers?” Saren raised a brow plate.

“Not as prominent as some of the other monstrosities I’ve mentioned, and they take different forms from interpretation to interpretation. They steal people and replace them with facsimiles. They send out more of their own disguised as the people they kidnap, but they’re little more than mere shells of who they represent. Eventually, they replace entire populations without a wink of resistance.”

That last detail sent shivers down Saren’s spine. It was an eerily uncomfortable notion that people could disappear, and no one would even notice. Or how people would disappear, but there would be no visible evidence that the kidnapping had even happened. “Anyways, I’d forgotten to ask you previously about our current mission. You’d previously worked with ancient tech smugglers, yeah?”

“Yeah, went toe-to-toe for several years. What are we looking at?”

“Not exactly. Just an illegal mining operation. Been some weird chatter out here. Apparently, they found something enticing.”

Terrence’s own brow scrunched up, he leaned back, and his gaze dropped to the floor. “Huh. Heard that one before.”

“You’ve already been briefed?”

“What? Oh, no. Just… retreading uncomfortable territory. How long until we land?”

“Another few hours.”

* * *

**Dig site at Joab / Enoch System / Rosetta Nebula**

The mining pit was industrial in nature with layers of the mine walls forming a perfect topography of the site. It was dead center of the afternoon, but nothing was stirring in the sun overhead. Vehicles remain inactive, tools were left in their boxes and the shuttles hadn’t left their launchpads. It was all too quiet. “This is strange. Where is everyone?” Saren asked.

“I’ve seen this sort of thing before. Let’s go but be cautious. Keep your head on a swivel.” Terrence’s voice was level but screamed nervousness.

He reached out and tapped his arm. “What are we facing?”

“I can’t be sure until we get down there. Stay close and only bolt if I tell you to.” His behavior caught Saren off-guard. For all the missions they had been on together, Terrence had been headstrong and well-planned. Under his command, there was a certain level of control he exerted until now. Something terrified him and he wasn’t letting Saren in on it.

The walk down into the mine had been otherwise quiet. At the individual campsites along the road, there was all the same signs. There was no sign of struggle or any of the inhabitants having left. Holobooks, music players, other oddities of personal belonging were still scattered about in each hut. “You said you had seen something like this before?”

“Something to that note. Tell me, did that briefing detail any specifics about the psychological nature of the inhabitants in this camp?”

It was an oddly specific question, but he shrugged it off. “Not that I recall. The only intel we picked up about this camp was the few messages going in and out as well as some light triangulation of the location of this camp.”

“I see.” The bottom of the mine opened into an elevator shaft digging straight down. Upon reaching the shaft, they could continue to hear the whirl of the elevator mechanism continuing to whirl away. Looking at the screen above the elevator button, it was clear someone was coming up. “Get ready. One of the locals is reaching the top.” Terrence’s rifle snapped to his shoulder, encouraging Saren to do the same.

The elevator car reached the top and the automated gates swung open. The car was empty. No dust trails on the ground implied anyone cloaked was coming off either. “Sir?”

“They probably jumped off early.”

“Or they sent it up to us?”

“No point in speculating. Hop on.” He stepped into the elevator car and beckoned to Saren. The gate shut behind him and the elevator began its long trek down into the mines. Small lamps imbedded into the wall lit their path down. Towards the bottom, the cavern revealed a multi-layered cavern dug out by the miners. They must have been operating down here for a while judging by the rounded support pillars and scaffolding holding many segments of the cave ceiling up.

“I feel like we’re being watched.” Saren walked over to one of the pillars to feel the drilled grooves on the side. Walking along the surface, he noticed a seismic charge stuck to the wall with its ‘armed’ light still flashing at second-long intervals. Seems like a lot of effort to dig down this far in advance only to collapse it all.

“I agree. Something’s very wrong. Over here.” Terrence took point down a stairwell several levels. Another opening, this time with a forward operating post with an autochef, med station, and table with half-eaten food. By the looks of the food, the inhabitants hadn’t returned to their break for a week.

Saren noticed a datapad on the table and picked it up. A text log been dated from a few weeks prior and he decided to open it. _‘Seismic readings came back earlier today. Looks like we’re sitting on top of a large deposit. What got the boss excited was the radio feedback we received alongside it. It’s nothing I recognized, but the boss wanted us to start digging a shaft straight down to try and find it early. After digging this much on the surface, it feels like we’re jumping the gun here. But I’m in no position to complain.’_

He swiped to the side and opened the next text log. _‘The readings are faint, but we’re definitely getting a signal. These cavities are also fat with ore. We shared a round of drinks last night in celebration. The signal can wait till later this week, but the boss is getting antsy. Says it’s important.’_

The third log seemed like the more of the same. _‘The boss ordered a bunch of Green Maw mercs earlier today. It seems like a gross misallocation of operation funding. One of the krogans was even lugging around a rocket launcher on his back. I know we’re deep in the Terminus and there may be some wandering eyes who’d want in on our find, but we’ve done everything to maintain a low profile out here. What could the boss fear?’_

He scrunched his brow in equal confusion. Everything had been so vague at this point and at no point clearly defined the cause of the panic. The last log was much more alarming. _‘GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT RUN WHILE YOU CAN RUN WHILE YOU CAN RUN WHILE YOU CAN RUN WHI’_

“You find anything Saren?” Terrence walked out into the open, carefully glancing over his shoulder.

“Nothing, Terrence. You?”

“Let’s keep moving. Found a puddle of something nasty back there.”

“Blood?”

“Close enough to it. I’ve seen this before and I have my suspicions, but I need to see it for myself.”

“The source of the signal?”

“Yeah… how did you guess?”

“Found a journal back by the rest area. Paints a pretty uneasy picture.”

“Same here. Watch your back. We’re definitely being watched.” He turned back to the pathway he found and Saren followed suit. It now felt like something had gotten under his armor and was squirming up the length of his carapace. It felt colder too, and it wasn’t because of the cave. His armor kept him warm enough in the coldest of climates. Something was horribly wrong.

The labyrinth of caves and cutouts continued for another hour. The miners had dug themselves deep and the conditions got worse the deeper they got. The bullet holes in the walls were now much more prevalent and there were scratches on the floor indicating plenty were dragged away. Whether they were dead or alive wasn’t clear. The worst part was the lack of bodies. By now, he would’ve expected to see perhaps one or two of the mining crew, but not even a corpse littered the floor. It was just a drained silence.

Saren’s mind suddenly shifted back to the earlier conversation he’d had with Terrence about body-snatchers. Perhaps around the corner, they’d find all the ‘inhabitants’ of the mineshaft waiting to drag them off to a dark corner to never be seen again before their own doubles were grown in a slick vat and sent back out into the galaxy. An itching fear started to develop such that peering over his shoulder would result in him coming face-to-face with an exact copy of himself. It would pounce on him, wrapping its artificial tendrils around his neck and squeezing the life out of him. His heart started to race faster than it should, and he mentally slapped himself for letting his fears get the better of him.

“Up ahead. Looks like an opening to a much bigger room.” Terrence placed his back firmly against the entryway before peering inside. His stride was slow and methodical. Part of Saren wondered if he was having the same gnawing fears building up in him. The terran had mentioned he’d faced something like this before and there was plenty of evidence he was certainly experienced.

He followed into the cave, peering down his rifle’s sights and his talon hovering over the trigger. The chamber must’ve been waiting for the miners to eventually stumble upon it. Perhaps they cracked the outer wall and whatever had been waiting inside pounced on the first miner. There weren’t any lamps set up inside, and the ground was still uneven, making it clear they hadn’t even started digging in here. The only source of lighting they had was the lamps mounted onto their suits. He continued to gaze back and forth, half-expecting to see the mountain of bodies they’d come to find, but the chamber was still barren. “I don’t see anything.”

“Oh my God…” In the months under his careful eye, it was the first time he’d heard fear in Terrence’s voice. Saren followed his suit-light and saw it. There was a cylindrical pedestal at the end of his circle of light. At the top was some other geographical form, surrounded by a dull yellow glow. Any anxieties he started to have earlier were amplified and he was confident Terrence felt it too.

“What is… that?”

“We don’t have the capacity to handle it. We’re heading back to the surface and calling it in. We’ll come back when we have a container and these caverns are-” A deep guttural roar filled the room, and the chamber felt like it came to life. Saren was suddenly knocked off his feet and he heard Terrence’s rifle fire off several volleys.

Flipping himself back over, a krogan in the familiar dark green rushed at him. His first few shots glanced off the beast’s helmet. As it reached for him, he swung the butt of his rifle, knocking the helmet off with a sickening ease. It revealed the horrifying face underneath. The skin had turned an uneasy gray, the head crest fell off completely from rot, and the eyes were held a dead thousand-yard stare. As it recoiled, the chest piece suddenly started to bulge outward and cracked open in two. Out peered a pair of blue-glowing stalks followed by more teeth and tentacles than he could count. From its left gauntlet, its fingers broke free and grew into an uneven claw. It grabbed hold and started to drag him into its dark, bottomless maw.

He barely mustered the mental process to scream. “Get it off! Get it off! Help!” There was no response. He was trapped, waiting to be consumed by this abomination. His gaze was leveled with the dead-krogan’s eyes. Its jaw unhinged and it let out a hungered moan, spitting fluid on his helmet visor. Suddenly, its grip went slack. Terrence ripped him free and tossed the beast aside. Then his body glowed blue with biotics and ignited the room, pushing outward with great force. Briefly, he caught a glimpse of the empty chamber. There were waves of them, each one more contorted than the other. Every miner and mercenary had been mutated into nightmares.

“On your feet! Run!” The terran yanked him back to his feet and dashed off to the hole in the wall they entered through. Saren dared to cast a look behind him to see the krogan return followed by the others in rapid succession. Each one, shoving each other aside to squeeze through the small hole. Another scream left his mouth as bullets whizzed by, grazing his stomach plating. More were in front of them now, exiting through some of the other cavern pathways they hadn’t inspected.

Some had long whip-like claws growing from their arms, tipped with jagged teeth like fishing hooks. Others had their guns and rifles fused with their hands with new ribbons of melted flesh. More still had new mouths and limbs growing from their bodies, gnashing their teeth in anticipation. Their aim wasn’t exactly proficient as they were when they were… normal, but they were rapidly improving.

“This way! Up the stairs!” Suddenly, it became a test of their navigational memory, juggling back and forth between gunning down the monsters rushing them and making their way back to the surface elevator. More pathways were now blocked off by the oncoming horde, forcing improvisation or hasty elimination of the crowd just to progress.

“Terrence! RPG overhead!” On a ledge overlooking their position, another of the converted had a rocket launcher fused with its upper torso, effectively turning itself into a portable turret. There was no room to reflect the projectile back so both dove out of the way of the rocket. The rocket continued its destructive path and struck a pillar behind them, reducing it to dust. The ceiling rumbled and began to collapse behind them, forcing them back to their feet. “I’ve got an idea. There were seismic detonation charges on most of the pillars in the cavern.”

“You think you could link your tool and set them off?” His voice was barely audible. Terrence held the trigger down, foregoing conserving ammo on another crowd.

“I’ll link up at the top and set it off once we’re on the elevator.”

“Then I’ll keep you covered. But hurry.”

They were roughly half-way by now, but there was no sign of the hordes stopping. Between bursts of sprint, Saren took a moment to take a mental count on the number they’d seen at this point. “Just how many people did they have down here?!” It felt like they’d already gunned down a good hundred combined, but it visually made no difference. The sea of dead eyes and faces persisted indefinitely.

“We’re almost there! Keep pushing!” The sight of the break area from earlier was a relief to behold. Then another hulk of grayed flesh rammed clean through the kitchen area. It still retained the head of a turian, but the rest of a melted bulk of various other species. “Goddammit! Make for the stairs! I’ll do my best to bait it off you! Get those charges going!”

“Terrence, you can’t-”

“Move!” Anything else was drowned out in more gunfire. His bullets sank deep into the beasts’ flesh, but there was no readily apparent effect other than just irritating it. Saren dove out of the way as it charged them and rushed to the stairs they’d entered through. Finally, the elevator was in sight. As tempting as it was to just get on and wait for Terrence’s return, he made for the pillar, gunning down a few more on the way over.

Setting up the connection would be easy, but not with the hordes hounding him. He knelt down and pulled his tool open and set a pistol down at his side. Occasionally, he’d snatch up the pistol and gun down another approaching infected. Saren reached the last few keystrokes when a familiar sound gurgled behind him. The krogan returned and he didn’t have time to reach his side arm. Seconds after it pounced him again, it was ripped off him. A silvery blade punched clean through its midsection and reformed into hooks. Terrence then clean the abomination in half with the sickening crunch of breaking bone and ripping flesh. “Thanks. I owe you.”

“Got the charges set?”

“Just a couple more…” He pressed the last keys and got back up. “Charges armed. Let’s make like hell!” More poured out each opening as they made their last steps into the elevator car. His palm mashed against the elevator button and returned his gun to fire off more rounds. The car felt more sluggish on its return to the surface and it took a while to gain any pleasing momentum.

“Wait till we’re back at the top. We _don’t_ want to be caught in the blast.” The light from above welcomed them back with open arms. The elevator finally slowed as it approached the top. They hadn’t stepped a foot off when his talon brushed the activation key. The ground shook from the explosion. The elevator was the first to give way, followed shortly by the bit of dirt in its immediate radius. It was a mad dash back up the layered mine, narrowly outrunning the sinkhole as the ground continued to eat up more mineral. Eventually, the sinkhole stopped, and it left an even bigger divot in the ground than the one they found.

Saren’s lungs were grasping for breath and he stopped between every few words to speak. “Terrence… what exactly… did… we find down… there?”

Terrence was similarly winded and sat down on a nearby rock before he answered. “I wish I could tell you, kid. I’ve seen this a few times by now, but we’re no closer to understanding who they are or why they turn their victims into those things.”

“You mean there’s more?”

“Underneath our very feet, waiting to spring upon more hapless victims.”

His eyes squeezed shut and he huddled up against a wall, almost hoping none of the day had been real. “How do we stop something like that?”

“I don’t know. I seriously don’t know.”


	22. Damned if You Do

_Saren and I parted ways on good terms. He’ll be continuing service and his Specter training on his own. In the meantime, I’ve leaked mission specifics about that nightmare back on Joab to my superiors. I know it’s against SOP as outlined by the Spectres, but this threat must be addressed, and I shouldn’t have let it slide after Alice and all these other abnormalities we’ve dug up. If this is snowballing, we’d better shut it down quickly._

* * *

**Feb 3, 2157**

**Terran Frigate _Loki_ aboard the Citadel**

“Admiral, I’m glad we finally got an opportunity to chat.” Terry had only returned to terran forces the week before and was slowly getting used to the old schedule.

_‘Good to have you back, Captain. These reports have you’ve put forward have some incredibly disturbing complications. I’m still trying to get this discussion to Parliament, but the process has been slower than anticipated.’_

He crossed his arms and shifted his weight to one leg. “We’ve easily got half a dozen specimen in hard containment back on Midgard. I think it’s time we start taking a more direct approach and prod those for some more concrete answers.”

_‘Don’t forget we can’t all have close shaves like yourself, Captain Miller. The artifacts are incredibly dangerous to approach and we constantly screen those who do interact with these hazardous materials. As for your request to reopen that mine on Joab, we’d prefer to do this through legal channels and that will eat up its own fair share of time and paperwork.’_

The bureaucratic network was starting to show its cracks and he hated every moment of it. “Whatever these bastards are, they won’t give us the luxury of time.”

_‘You’ve been training that turian recruit for too long. I appreciate what the act counts for, but please remember that there are rules in the real world that exist, and for good reason. They’re there so that when these outbreaks do occur again that the flow is stemmed. Rest assured, this threat does have the military cabinet’s full attention. Proving that this is an issue to the other governments is another matter altogether. While we do have records of encounters and the evidence needed to prove these aren’t isolated incidents, this discussion is still little more than yelling at clouds.’_

“I suppose that will have to do for the time being. In the meantime, I’ll see what I can do to worm my way into R&D’s mailing list.”

* * *

**Sept 1, 2157**

**Turian Councilor’s Office**

“Primarch, I’d like to reiterate we should reevaluate our approach to this conversation. The Commonwealth could easily interpret this as an act of war.” Abicius clutched her hands tightly against one another.

Lintius waved a dismissive hand. “I know you wish to maintain good terms with the terrans and I’ve found your efforts to do so admirable. That said, the ignorance displayed by their detachment at Relay 314 cannot go unnoticed. And whatever efforts they’ve gone through to be able to disavow them are thinly veiled at best.”

“And what if you’re wrong?”

“I see no reason why we would be. Now, put the call through.”

The screen on the Councilor’s desk showed a dark-skinned man in a slim, gray suit. His head was peculiarly smooth due to its lack of human fringe. _‘Councilor, Primarch, to what do I owe you the pleasure of this call?’_

“There is no pleasure to be had in this call, Chancellor Mitchell. Don’t play coy with us.”

“Lintius, please.”

_‘I’m not sure I follow, Primarch. Perhaps there’s been a mistake?’_

“We’ve been fighting your research division for over three months now and forced them to unconditionally surrender. Or is your government so inept as to not share information with its military branches?”

The terran Chancellor shot an incredulous look. _‘You have me at a disadvantage, Primarch. If you’re hiding something, you’re doing no favors by not sharing.’_

“You’ve easily got several divisions out by the edges of Hegemony space to be ignorant of this. Does ‘Shan Xi’ ring any bells?”

_‘We have no such colonies under our control with that name or in that general vicinity. I do not know of whatever you speak of, but I fear the implications. Have you been attacking terran ships?’_

“I’ll admit the new ship designs are peculiar for what we’ve come to expect of your military, but based on the crews, they are very much your people. Now quit wasting my time and except the truth that your government has violated regulations for opening Mass Relays that have been there for almost two millennia. There will be consequences.”

For a moment, Lintius found some brief victory watching shock wash over the terran politician’s face. The bald politician brushed a hand over his head and cupped his hands. _‘Okay. So what you’re saying is that you’ve attacked people who may very well have come from Earth who had absolutely_ no idea _that there existed such rules and you’re going forward with pinning the blame on_ us _?’_

“That’s your alibi?” the Primarch sniffed.

_‘It’s the only explanation! You’ve_ deliberately _attacked another sovereign power unprovoked and expect me to answer!’_

“You can tell it to the Council.”

_‘I’d request you shift control of this colony back to us.’_

“Request denied.”

Dead silence fell over the conversation. _‘So that’s how it’s going to be. I’ll be deliberating what you’ve just told me and bring this to the next session at Parliament. But don’t expect the response to be amicable.’_

“Don’t make a promise you can’t keep.” The call ended shortly after.

Abicius trembled where she sat. All the two governments had established between each other felt like it was starting to evaporate. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

“You’re siding with him?”

“This confirms my suspicions.”

“And you’re going to buy his ludicrous story? He’s clearly lying. This isn’t a scenario they can claim innocence in.” 

“I’ll do everything I can to muster a peace treaty with the Council in the meantime, but I can’t guarantee it’ll be very fast. Just… please don’t be rash. I do not want this to taint our history with the Commonwealth.”

“They have already tainted it. We can prove it.”

* * *

**Sept 22, 2157**

**Terran Cruiser _Terra Restituo_ inbound to Shan Xi**

There were two trains of thought approaching this crisis. By default, the Hierarchy was accusing them of violating Mass Relay regulations. The first course of action would be to reach out physically to this unidentified terran group and provide aid. Given how wound up the Hierarchy navy already was, this would only be interpreted as proof of guilt. The alternative would be to take no action whatsoever. With no counterproof, the Commonwealth would still be labeled guilty and legal action would be pursued anyways.

Both options were equally disastrous. However, the rhetoric to provide aid to the unknown terran group still existed and Terry had been deployed with his unit all the same. The situation down below wasn’t clear and the Commonwealth military wouldn’t be able to hold orbit for long, so the plan was to send troops and supplies down below and link up with whatever was left of the military divisions originally defending the colony. If the military was entirely decimated, the next option would be to link up with this presumably Earth government and establish a conversation regarding future plans for the current conflict and afterwards.

“We have limited intel regarding this little colony called Shan Xi. From what we can visually see, the Hierarchy maintains several battalions on the colony down below as well as a small fleet in roughly geosynchronous orbit overhead.” Terry pointed to a projection of the planet and to a cluster of red blips somewhere in the eastern hemisphere to a room crammed full of other soldiers in matching green armor. “We’ll be deploying in three dozen dropships and we’ll be deploying with other ground vehicles such as APCs. After that, the _Terra Restituo_ is bugging out until reinforcements arrive. As they draw the attention of the Hierarchy vessels, we’ll be slipping in below and approaching the colony on foot from less than hundred meters from our destination. Saving those people is our main priority. Any questions?”

“Won’t the Hierarchy vessels return and level us?”

“It’ll be danger-close fire mission for them once we’re in the colony perimeter. That should buy us time until the cavalry arrives to drive them off.”

“We don’t know anyone down below, sir. Is this operation even a good idea?”

“Until we find out Earth has reunited into some dreaded authoritarian regime, we stick out for our own. I don’t care if we’re a century removed from those people. Besides, we’re in hot water whether we do this or not. Now load up and make for your assigned ships. We’re dropping in ten.” The large chamber emptied rapidly to the sound of shuffling armor and clattering boots.

The upcoming fight didn’t sit well with Terry. It betrayed his preestablished mentality about the turians that he’d built up over firefights alongside Hierarchy troops, their promises to have their backs against the Hegemony if they ever got any ideas, and any general friendships he’d had over his lifetime. However, his duties remained rooted with mankind. He would not ignore its calling.

The dropships were cramped with fully armored troops filling the seats. Making their way through the outer atmosphere was shaky at best. The violent vibrations didn’t change either on their final approach to the colony as AA rounds pelted the dropship hulls. _‘Captain, we’re approaching the rally point. But it’s getting a little hot and the chop isn’t dying down.’_

“Put us down, pilot. Break time’s over, grunts! We’re going in.” The side doors slid open allowing the cabin inhabitants to leap onto the grassy terrain underneath them. The blades waved from the propulsion of the jets like the surface of water in a rainstorm. Gunfire lit up the night as more gunships landed or crashed. A few APCs touched down and immediately started firing at the spots where the turian tracers led from. “Keep moving! Close the distance with the colony walls!”

It was hard to tell from the poor lighting conditions of the night, but the colony buildings had seen better days. They’d been pelted by what looked like heavy cannon fire from days prior and had fire damage long since put out. On top, the Hierarchy troops had put up gun emplacements and automated AA turrets in anticipation of their approach. What mattered the most about the prefabs was that the architecture was certainly derivative of the prefabs seen all the way back in the days of Project Exodus. _‘This is the_ Terra Restituo _to ground team, do you copy Captain Miller?’_

“This is Miller. Go ahead, _Terra_.”

_‘We’re about to leave the system. Just picked up more ships about to exit FTL into the system. Looks like you’ll have some company soon. Might want to get to town and get working.’_

“You got it. The timetable has just accelerated, ladies and gentlemen. Time to pick up the pace!” The fighting intensified getting into town as the combat devolved into compact street-fighting. There was room for the APCs to roll in and start laying down suppressing fire, but they still found themselves just evenly matched by the turian defenders. All the same, they pushed through hard as they could, even with a lack of air support. Air support would’ve been nice, for occasions for chokepoints where the turians dug in a little stronger.

_‘We’re pinned down by heavy gunners and have turians coming up our flank! Requesting backup!’_

Terry pressed a finger to his earpiece. “Solid copy. Transmit coordinates and I’ll see what I can do to pull off a flank.”

_‘Forwarding coords. Are you close enough?’_

His omnitool lit up with a map of the colony followed by a blip from the incoming message. “I see you. Hang tight.” He brought two others with him in tow to find the pinned soldiers. They wove through a small network of back alleys into an open street. Down the left, more green tracers dotted the dim-lit street to an overturned vehicle down to the left. “We see you. What’s your status?”

_‘Wilson is down and he needs medical fast, captain.’_

“I’ll do what I can once that gunner is out of commission. Pass me an extra smoke grenade.” Taking the two from his belt and a third from one of his subordinates, he tossed both to the ground around the corner and waited for the approaching hiss of the smoke canisters. “Stay close but stagger your approach.” He rushed through the dense cloud through to the other side. The distance to the school the gunners had perched on from the end of the smoke cloud was less than optimal and he was forced to deploy a biotic barrier to close the distance. At an angle the gunner couldn’t reach, he lept to the roof top.

The squad on top did have him outnumbered. He did have enough remaining bioenergy to buy himself a few seconds. His armor coated in a line of silver and he charged the group. The first two died to well placed shots. The third was smacked upside the head with the butt of his rifle. The fourth started returning fire as the nanite plating dispersed but was treated with a nanite blade through his sternum before slumping lifelessly to the floor. He jumped back down to return to the others. “Roof is secure.”

“Captain, Boris headed in after you and found a bunch of civies inside. They’re hurt and need food.”

“Let me have a look.” He followed the private inside. There were easily a dozen adults in the darkened classroom. They’d been set up with turian military cots with medical curtains to keep them separate. The worst part was the number of huddled and crying children. So much for being allies. “Stay here and keep them safe. We’ll use this building to triage the wounded once the fighting stops. In the meantime, everyone here stays put. Help is on the way.”

Next was to tend to the injured soldier from earlier. There was three held up by what looked to be a burned tractor. “Wilson’s been hit bad, captain. The round went clean through. The suit seals kept pressure on the wound though.”

Terry knelt by the injured soldier and pressed a palm to the wound, inserting the nanites through the layers of the body glove. “Help me get him to his feet. We’re moving him to the school at the other end of this street. What have you heard from the other squads?”

Each took an arm of their downed companion. “Progress has ground to a crawl. We’re taking this colony, but the turians are putting up a fight. We’ve found more civilians along the way, housed in the untouched prefabs. Plenty more were completely leveled on the way and the people are without food and proper medical attention.”

“Damn. We’re stretched thin as is. Keep up the fight, I want that school used as a triage center for our injured.” 

Another few hours passed after he returned to the street combat. The night droned on and fires started to light up the night sky. As expected, the turian fleet stationed overhead hadn’t responded in time to their approach and they were now in the thick of it. A group of terran troops had held out in what little of the government building remained. It had been sheered in half days before by what looked like det-packs. On the top floor, a squad had established a headquarters and were using it to direct squads and alert each other to enemy movement. “Welcome to home away from home, captain.” The comms officer looked weary and his visor spiderwebbed out from a strike to the middle.

He was barely able to yell over the intense gunfire. “What’s our orbital situation?”

“Cavalry’s arrived. They’re duking it out with Hierarchy ships and it’ll be several more hours before we see relief. We also picked up those new contacts on the way in.”

“Shit. Last thing we need right now is the entire Hierarchy fleet on top of us.”

“Not necessarily, captain. Their IFFs don’t match anything turian. We’re not alone out here.”

“Sir! We’ve got projectiles descending into the planet atmosphere fast.”

Panic started to dig in. “So much for the turians caring about friendly fire. Everyone, get to overhead cover!” Dots of orange light speckled the night sky as the objects entered the planet atmosphere before striking the ground nearby. The payload was large and cylindrical and donned a blue and gray paint job. The emblem on the side wasn’t recognizable either. The side panels burst open and more humanoids jumped out into the fray and started laying into the turians entrenched nearby. “False alarm, it’s our possible friends from Earth. Move to assist!”

He flashed his helmet light at the group and gestured to the presumably human team to reach the town hall. The unknown allies made from the pod rushed from cover where where Terry and a few others laid down covering fire. The helmets somewhat resembled racing helmet with antennae coming off the right ears. The squad leader’s helmet had an open visor and the face inside was thankfully human. The armor was gray and covered in navy blue stripes and digital camo. His left breastplate was adorned with a logo reading ‘N7’ with a red triangle filling in the space underneath the lower half of the number. “I don’t know if we can trust you, but guys are a sight for sore eyes. It won’t matter since you probably can’t understand us anyways, but I’m thankful.”

“Relax, we’re all as human as it gets. We’ve got you covered.”

“Human? I don’t recognize your uniform. What division are you?”

“Captain Miller, Twenty-First Rifleman Division of the Terran Commonwealth. This is our current headquarters. I assume you’re from Earth?”

“That’s right. Sergeant Anderson, Hundred and Third Division of the Alliance Navy. I’ve got hundreds of questions, but I’d prefer more optimal conditions to speak.”

“You’re fine with just settling in? I assume this is first contact for you guys and no doubt you’d prefer definitive allies over complete strangers.”

“What matters is you weren’t shooting at us. You have a plan to push the aliens back?”

“We’ve been dug in for a few hours now and we’re working to force the turians to the east. Do you have forces in orbit?”

“They’d engaged the ‘turian’ fleet when we deployed in the drop pods. We’re to retake this colony.”

“Then let’s start rallying your forces. Hope you’re willing to join in.”

“We didn’t come to vacation.” The sergeant looked back at the three squad members behind him and gestured forward. “Corporal, we’re heading out. Ramirez, start laying down some smoke grenades to cover our advance.”

The extra numbers meant a significant change in the tide of the fight. The turians had already taken considerable losses from the encroaching terran divisions that arrived hours earlier. The Alliance troops closed the difference. With the lack of proper barriers or other advancements commonplace among other races, they could expect to trade roughly around one-for-one with a turian soldier. The overwhelming volume with which they were deployed was the factor needed to secure victory. Over the next half hour, more pods dropped in, eventually cornering the remaining Hierarchy troops.

-\

The remaining turian soldiers surrendered in the hours after. Dawn steadily broke as Terrence gradually helped more of the injured to the school at the west-side of the colony. He’d begun tending to the various injured but was promptly redirected by an incoming message from the _Terra Restituo_. As tempting as it was to tell his subordinates the chain of command could wait, he responded all the same. _‘Did you secure Shan Xi? Are they terran?’_

Sweat matted his hair to his scalp after the long fight. “They’re human, but they aren’t even remotely tied to the Commonwealth, sir. They’re from some new Earth government called the ‘Systems Alliance.’ There are plenty of wounded and the colony’s food rations are running low. The Alliance is spread thin from their colonization efforts and we’ll need to establish supply lines for them until they can regroup. We’ll also need to start shipping the injured back to friendly space so we can start focusing on the colony itself.”

_‘And the remaining turian forces?’_

Terrence cast a look outside of the command post. The last few dozen turian soldiers had been cuffed and left to sit down in rows along the damaged street. “They’ve surrendered. We’ll be taking them into custody, but we should still treat them well. No doubt the Hierarchy will want them and their dead back once the fighting’s over.”

_‘I’m not sure if that’s even an option anymore. The fact they’re Earth-born is good news. We’ll use that in our rush for a cease-fire. As for the Hierarchy, they’re already in the process of declaring a state of war on this Systems Alliance, and by association us too. We're on a collision course.’_

“Then it’s now or never. I’ve written my report and I’m forwarding it to you. There’s still time to stop this.”

_‘Captain, I wholeheartedly agree and I’ll do what I can to see peace perpetuate, but the gears of government are slow to gain momentum. And I can say nothing reassuring if the Council will move mountains to see a treaty either. Expect to be redeployed soon. Hopefully, to an extent where we aren’t nearly as involved.’_

He reached a hand forward and ended the call. “That’s it?” Sergeant Anderson stood behind him with his arms crossed. His helmet had been removed to reveal the short hair on his head and his earthly skin color. Of his facial hair, his moustache was the most prominent, but a shadow of a beard trailed from his chin to his ears.

“We’ll get this colony the help it needs and see to it the Hierarchy calls off any further military action before too long. To my knowledge, we'll be playing this defensively.”

“I’d rather this didn’t blow into full-scale intergalactic war either, but like an older brother, you guys better help. These turians are tough to fight and we can’t cope with a trade-off like this for another month. And if I understand this right, we aren’t the only two sentient species out here. We need help and not just militarily.”

“Sergeant, listen. Firstly, we’ve been long-standing allies of the Hierarchy for almost a century now. If we get enthralled in this war, we’re biting the hand that feeds us, and this is a bridge I don’t want to see turned to ash. The fact we’re here at all is already a conflict of interest we had to risk because it was the better of two equally bad choices. Secondly, we can't afford a war of this scale with a population our size. Our military strength is barely two dozen million and our total population is five times that. A war of attrition would see our little corner of mankind put on an extinction course.”

Anderson’s lips pressed together in acknowledgement. “Fine. You done with that report?”

“Just sent it off midway through the call. Why?”

He gestured to a damaged table with a couple of chairs still left standing around it. “Some historical context would prove helpful for me and my men.”


	23. Can't Unring the Bell

_What a kick to the shins. It’s nice to know that Earth is still around after all this time and hasn’t been reduced to dust given its previously known condition, but I really wished the Systems Alliance wasn’t introduced this way. We’ve thrown in with them, but more out of obligation than actual need or desire. The Hierarchy has kept their ear canals shut tight. It’s been three weeks since we’ve reestablished contact with Earth and they’re not letting up even after we’ve laid out the facts for them._

* * *

**Oct 13, 2157**

**Brig of the Terran Cruiser _Terra Restituo_ en route to Midgard / Mani Cluster**

“What can I do for you, captain?” the guard asked.

Terry craned his head around the corner down the holding block. “Is General Arterius still back there?”

“As are the people who dragged him in.”

“I’d like a word with him.” He’d gotten out of his green armor and was now adorned in dark gray officer fatigues. After the guards unlocked the door, he casually strode in, hearing the gate snap shut behind him. Usually, these pens were empty. More often than not, they were reserved for smugglers, pirates, and slavers of various species. Now it was filled exclusively with turian inmates. They’d been stripped of their armor and were left with little other than basic clothing. It was important they took custody over the Alliance as they’d probably wouldn’t have the dextro rations necessary to house them.

At the end was a trio of Alliance special operatives in civilian fatigues. The team leader had brown hair, deep blue eyes, and an angular face. “Captain Miller is it?”

“That’s right, Harper. You done here? I’d like a word or two with the general.”

Behind him was a woman with a black bob haircut. “But…”

“We’ve gotten what we needed Eva. This is still their ship.” Harper led the other two out of the prison block without another word.

The general stood from his bunk and walked to the cell door. “Saren speaks highly of you. I already told them my intentions. Why are you here?”

Unlike Saren, his elder brother Desolas was much more hot-headed and prideful. “Unlike whatever they had, mine are much more political in nature,” Terry grumbled. “We’ve given you ample reason to stop this conflict and it’s not like English isn’t installed on your translators either. What’s the holdup?”

“Sunk cost, mostly. The Hierarchy’s all riled up and your intervention is only working against you.”

“Those were people down there. It was part of our obligation. Had the Alliance been involved with something much more sinister – perhaps genocidal in nature – we would’ve thrown in with the Hierarchy. But even that would be flying in the face of your treatment of human POWs.”

“We’ve got dead soldiers who are still unaccounted for.”

“You leveled city blocks full of civilians just to starve Shan Xi into submission. Last I checked, the Council still cares about that sort of thing when they can’t apply deniability to it.”

“And you think the Council will listen to them?”

“It’s not your word against the Alliance’s. It’s your word against ours. Last I checked, it’s an even playing field.”

“What do you really believe is going to happen? That you’ll win?”

“Three things. Either the Council gets off their high chairs quickly enough to work out negotiation terms between you and us, the Hierarchy grinds both the Alliance and the Commonwealth to dust, or we pluck the plates off your collective hinds one by one. I certainly hope it’s the first, but I wouldn’t be remorseful if this concluded any other way.”

Desolas’ chest beating started to deflate. “And what then? Would you see us stripped of everything we have in this galaxy?”

“Consequences are biased towards the victors. I’m no politician, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the Republics and Union climbed aboard the idea of prying teeth from your skulls.”

A prison guard hurried over. “Captain, you’re requested on the bridge.”

“I’ll be there shortly.” Before he left, he cast one last snarl at Desolas. “I’ll be sure to give Saren your regards.”

He walked briskly to the bridge. The rear admiral was already in a conference call with other Alliance and Commonwealth naval officers. Terry didn’t overhear much before the call between both parties ended. The admiral turned to face him as he approached. “Captain, good to see you. Just got off the horn with the Alliance discussing strategy against the Hierarchy.”

“What’s the consensus on wrapping this war up?”

“For the Alliance, it’s not clear. They’re still new to the galaxy and they haven’t established proper operation for intergalactic warfare. For us, it’s doing enough damage until the Hierarchy realizes they can’t afford to maintain this war. After that, our hope is that they’ll concede. Or we hold out until the Council finally wraps up.”

“That’s less than optimal.”

“Yeah, well that’s the least of our worries. I know we disagree, but the rest of the admiralty is readying up to fully pitch in. We’re getting a fair bit more involved than we anticipated and we’re expected to be participating on the front lines.”

And here he was getting his hopes up to begin with.

* * *

**Oct 20, 2157**

**Syglar**

The planet had served as an important location within the Hierarchy’s military structure. Syglar was a crossroads between various systems under turian jurisdiction and saw heavy activity frequently. Everything from heavy cruisers to munitions at one point or another would’ve most likely made its way onto Syglar at one point or another during its journey. Even during the height of the Krogan Rebellions, it served its purpose in holding off the hordes. And for the first time in history, they were losing it.

Over the past hour, he’d been holding position with Holio as his spotter and there were just too many humans for his rifle to keep up with. It hadn’t helped that they’ve been countering with their own sharpshooters and artillery fire for the past few locations and were undoubtedly beginning to triangulate his location. He’d executed his fair share of Alliance officers, but it wasn’t enough. His gaze snapped onto another target and he squeezed the trigger.

“Hit.” Holio’s voice betrayed his exhaustion. For the past week now, they’d been holding their position with no relief. Any reinforcements they would’ve had by now were still in orbit, combating Alliance fleets. Another shot rang out. “Hit.” The others in the squad ran for cover and they were dragging their injured commanding officer to safety. He fired again, but the shot went wide. “Miss.” It irritated him. Another shot failed to meet its mark. “Miss.” He barely even bothered adjusting for wind for the last shot. “Miss. C’mon, Castis. We’re out of time.”

His mandibles pinched tight against either side of his jaw. All around them, the city burned. Scooping up the bipod with his left hand, Castis stood to full height and retreated with Holio back to the roof access door. The two only made it half a dozen flights when artillery fire shook the top of the building, raining dust around them. He lost balance and fell forward, clutching the rifle in his arms desperately. “Spirits be damned, that was too close,” he cursed.

“Get up before they fire another salvo.” The two hurried back down the steps and exited onto the street outside. “Let’s find a good spot to hold up a few blocks to the southeast.”

“Wait a sec. Comms are finally clearing up,” Castis protested.

The buzzing in their earpieces finally died down. _‘All remaining ground units be advised. The remaining civilian populace has been evacuated and the general order is to withdraw. We can retake Syglar another day. Make for the given coordinates for exfil. Repeat, we are cutting our losses and pulling out. Retreat to the designated extraction point.’_

Their hearts sank at the announcement of the crushing defeat. Suddenly, the street felt no safer than they had been on the roof and the absence of friendly nearby forces became apparent. “Shit. Now what?”

“Don’t look at me like that. We should get moving before we’re caught out in the open.” Almost imitating him, an Alliance patrol came into view just at the end of the street. Rounds grazed their barriers as they sprinted around a back alley for safety. Castis nervously glanced at his suit’s energy reading for the shield, weighing if he should try and peak again. His barrel reached round the corner with barely enough profile to be at serious risk of retaliation and fired.

Panic dug in the moment a biotic wall flashed for a moment to deflect the round. “Fuck! Terran specialist! Move!” He and Holio ran down the alleyway as fast as they could, hearing the gunfire continue just behind them.

The Commonwealth had quickly established a certain infamy among the turian forces. Each one was expected to kill almost twice the amount their Alliance counterparts would. Their enhanced reflexes and previous experience with Hierarchy forces gave them a significant edge. Since the Alliance didn’t have bioitics among their own ranks yet, they fielded biotics on loan from the Commonwealth. The scariest were the guys equipped with nanite plating. Typically, such individuals were either medics, demolitionists, sappers, and heavy gunners, and were incredibly hard to kill depending on their level of experience.

What waited at the other side was hardly any different. A SAM trailed an overhead gunship and struck its side, sending its burned wreckage crashing behind them. The subsequent explosion knocked them both forward and left a whining ringing in Castis’ ear. The ground felt like it continued to spin around him as he stood back up again. His hearing finally registered Holio’s cries of pain. Rushing back, he found a piece of shrapnel from the wreckage cut through the armor and nicked his calf. “Aah! Fuck… my leg… it burns like…” Blood was pouring freely from the wound too.

“Hang on. This is going to hurt.” Castis grabbed an arm and slung his injured friend over his cowl and continued to the extraction point. The weight did prove encumbering, but nothing he couldn’t carry. The extraction point hadn’t been much further. The last staging area had been set in the center of a roundabout with gun placements, portable walls, and dropships for as far as the eye could see. His strength was starting to strain when he finally set down Holio by a med station.

The medical specialist helped him onto a stretcher and began tending to the leg. “Good work getting him back. We need help moving the other injured onto the next ships out of here.”

“What about the humans? They’re still on approach.”

“They’ve held position and are waiting to reinforce their line before continuing. We’ve evacuating as many as we can before that changes.”

* * *

**Nov 1, 2157**

**Council Chambers / Citadel**

Abicius was on the verge of retiring out of shame. She felt sick to her stomach about recent events and her colleagues were wasting time ‘gathering information’ on the new branch of terrans to decide how to best prevent war from breaking back out months after the cease-fire was given. In the meantime, Hierarchy casualties had started mounting into the tens of thousands. It wasn’t much, but the guilt burrowed deep like a tick. “I do agree on the notion that this conflict is of the Hierarchy’s volition. If it means concluding this conflict as soon as possible, I agree to the terms.”

Primarch Lintius leaned in. “You can’t be serious. They attacked Hierarchy space.”

_‘After you had extensively laid siege to Alliance ships, outposts, and a colony. I don’t agree either with the Alliance Navy’s military stance either but don’t pretend they’re the ones who threw the first stone here, Primarch,’_ Chancellor Mitchel interjected. _‘If it is the will of the Council, I will contact the Systems Alliance governmental structure so we can grant their insight to this.’_

Councilor Odril had remained largely silent in the conversation until this point. “So, is it decided then?”

“If all Councilors are in agreement, I see nothing else that needs further discussion,” Tevos concluded.

The Primarch stood up in protest. “But I-”

“Enough, Lintius. You’ve done enough damage as is. The reparations won’t harm the Hierarchy too grievously and this was the best we could potentially negotiate.”

_‘I apologize we won’t be working together in the foreseeable future, Councilor Abicius. We truly wish this could’ve concluded a better way.’_

“If only.” The hologram dissipated shortly after. As part of the treaty, the respective navies of the Alliance, Commonwealth, and Hierarchy would be keeping a relative distance until tensions between the powers died down. It wasn’t clear if relations would ever pick back up again after such a disastrous contact event with the terran’s other part. And that didn’t even start on how much of a logistical nightmare this would prove to be.

“As for further relations with the Alliance regarding colonization rights, military allocation, and an eventual embassy on the Presidium will be topics for discussion at a later time. As for now, this meeting is adjourned.”

Lintius and Abicius exited side by side from the conference room and for the elevator from the tower back to the Presidium. “I still believe now’s the time to look past your friendship with the Commonwealth and realize the full extent of the threat the humans and terrans pose.”

She wasn’t having any of it. “What we had with the terrans was incredibly promising in its continued potential. Already, our combined strength in the fields would’ve proved an impenetrable deterrent against future threats of a similar caliber to the krogan or rachni. And if we hadn’t accused them of violating Mass Relay regulations, we might’ve maintained terran-turian relations, even if they were on rough terms.”

“You seriously believe that?”

“It was very much the case when the Commonwealth first revealed itself, had they not?”

“This conflict proved their loyalties are not with us.”

The doors to the elevator reopened to the bright, warm glow of the ring at the base of the tower. “Only because we betrayed their trust. At any rate, I won’t take up any more of your time. The damage has been done. I’ve got my work cut out for myself and so do you. Farewell.” She turned on her toes and marched off to her office.


	24. Fallout

_The Earthborn Crisis couldn’t have ended sooner. We may only have participated in the last quarter of the fighting, but it’s still a conflict that shouldn’t have begun to begin with. Then again, I suspect that the turians would’ve shot first even if we hadn’t been here at all. Now our relations with the Hierarchy is in tatters, future relations with Earth are on rough footing, and we all walk away with scars that we didn’t need. It’s a good thing I save up my leave. I need a damn break from all this._

* * *

**Nov 14, 2157**

**Dark Star Lounge / Zakera Wards / Citadel**

It was a stupid idea and their lack of conversation was evident enough of it. Saren had participated much more in the fighting than he had, but Terry initially believed it would be a good idea to meet under a banner of truce. Instead, the two mostly spent time looking into their drinks and ignoring the awkward glances they were receiving from the other patrons present. While he had been told to keep his distance with Hierarchy troops in the wake of the conflict, it was best to try and salvage his friendship with his protégé.

Now that he was here, he just couldn’t muster the effort. They sat a good seat apart from each other at the bar and only took a moment to throw back a couple drinks. “You pull through cleanly enough?”

His mandibles merely twitched. “I guess. You?”

“I guess.” Above all else, the conclusion to the fighting had been especially humiliating for the Hierarchy. Even though the war was considered a draw, the Hierarchy took a greater hit to their prestige as the leading military faction in the galaxy from having to pay reparations to the Alliance, having taken slightly greater losses in personnel and territory over the course of the conflict, and unwittingly damaging their political influence. “When are you getting back to Spectre training?”

“A week from now.”

“Mmmm.”

Suddenly, Desolas strolled in and took the seat between the two and ordered himself a drink. “Saren, Captain, good to see you again. I’m at least glad you took possession over me instead of those savages.”

“It was their first contact with another sentient species. They wouldn’t have established proper protocols for non-human POWs, especially for those of dextro composition, general,” he spat back.

“Desolas, c’mon. Do we have to talk about this right now?”

“Keep your mandibles clenched, Saren. As I was saying, I’m still surprised you guys stuck your neck out for them. Even through-”

“Are you here for anything other than shit-slinging, general? The war was a mistake, and both are most certainly to blame, but I feel the Hierarchy should’ve thought twice before leaning into the punch.”

“Good to know where your preferences lie.”

“Good to know you’re as single-minded as the rest of the brass is.”

“Our intentions are for the protection of our people.”

“As are mine, so I suggest you better start drafting up a point.”

“You two are full of shit, you know that?” Terry was just as surprised at Saren’s sudden increase in self-confidence. “I just… Terrence, can I have a word outside?”

He abided, casting an acidic glance at Desolas as he slid off his seat. They only made a few paces away from the front door when he stopped to ask, “What is it you had on your mind, Saren?”

“I hate it how you two are making me choose here. Desolas is an ass, but he’s my only family. You… you’re an ass too, but you’re the best friend I’ve had in years. I ultimately feel aligned with the Hierarchy in this matter, but this just putting a part of my mindset outside of camp.”

“And I get that. I know that the Hierarchy navy is the galactic police force out here, but this is a scenario where the victim is guilty by ignorance.”

“And you help me see that. Can we just get back to talking friendly for at least half an hour longer? I don’t want this to tear apart what I have with both of you.”

It hadn’t been thirty seconds when Desolas stalked them out the door. “Dangerous words, Saren. Best to decide your loyalties and fast.”

“We’re supposed to be fucking allies, general,” Terry snarled. “It would’ve proven helpful had your cabinet exchanged information about the Alliance incursions and we would’ve stopped this conflict before it happened. Since it’s your people who went behind our backs, how about you look inside for where your ‘loyalties’ lie?”

He yanked Saren behind him. “I know where mine are. I’ll see you very soon.” The older brother turned away and shoved Saren ahead of him.

“Yeah? I hope you burn, general! Next time I swing by Palaven, I’ll take all the time in the galaxy to sniff your ashes!”

* * *

**Nov 28, 2157**

**Arcturus Station / Arcturus / Arcturus Stream**

The chamber had been filled with delegates from both the Systems Alliance and the Terran Commonwealth with an even line down the middle dividing the two parties. “We’re well aware it’s been over a century of separation, but we’re looking to extend this relationship beyond military operations.”

Chancellor Miller shifted in his seat. “And I get that. We’ve also been looking into extending trade routes to Alliance Space, but it’s along and treacherous road through the Attican. The military assets we’ve exerted to trade to just the Citadel is already pretty extensive.”

“Then we can extend our own branches to secure that once we’ve fully settled the space we can for our people. But what we had in mind was much more political in nature.”

“As I understand, the Systems Alliance is the new intergovernmental body residing on Earth, correct?”

“And we wanted to have that invitation extended to you. We’ll get an embassy arranged on Earth and establish a seat for your government over the course of the following year. With this position, you’ll have the typical rights and weight in regards to issues tangential to human interests.”

“That much is clear. I did extensively review the packet you sent with Parliament heavily before we arrived. One of the primary concerns was local governmental jurisdiction. Not that we believe you intend on infringing upon our established governing entities but concerns about the sheer distance between Midgard and Earth.”

Murmurs ensued from the Alliance delegates. “I’m not sure I follow your thought process, Chancellor.”

“Since the original expedition from the Exodus Project, we’ve managed to establish a significant distance between our parts of the population. Logistically, this is an absolute nightmare.”

“Could you explain further?”

“Look, while intergalactic communications have been made possible by the advent of prothean-based technologies, we didn’t find out about your conflict with the Hierarchy until months since the fighting began. If we can’t even realize that the other component is suffering a catastrophe until months later, imagine what this means for more banal problems like civil unrest, disease, or poverty. The distance creates a delay in agreements for policy as well as the shift of resources that we just cannot afford to the extent you’re proposing.”

“So I assume that’s a ‘no’ then?”

“Not entirely. We’ll still cooperate militarily into the future and we’ll gladly accept the necessity of an embassy on the homeworld. It’s just something much more mutual beyond the surface would possibly not meet our needs.”

Terrence made the for the door of the conference room. He’d peaked inside the chamber to at least get a general sense of what would be happening between the two governments. His mind had been preoccupied with other matters. After their small disagreement, Desolas had returned to Palaven with what Saren described to him as an object of ‘suspicious’ origin. Along with them were the three Alliance special operations that had originally captured the general over Shan Xi. Everything else went downhill fast and Saren ordered the temple Desolas dragged the artifact into bombarded from orbit.

For the past couple hours, he’d been waiting for the next response from Saren. He’d never been on good terms with the older brother even before the Earthborn Crisis, but the least he could do was apologize and try to reach out. Initially, Saren had proven resentful of their last exchange. Between the two of them, he’d chosen his late brother. It was only natural. He was quickly losing faith, so it was about time he just sent one last apology and state they should perhaps spend a few decades apart. Time had a strange tendency of mending even the most heavily fractured friendships. Perhaps it would work for the best.

In a sick twist of fate, the first system they jumped to after leaving Sol was the Va-dfar Cluster, subsequently renamed the Exodus Cluster in honor of the supposedly lost effort to Midgard. Furthermore, they settled on the nuclear-ruined planet of Ya’Bara and gradually revitalized it as a planet capable of sustaining life. After some light terraforming to undo the damage done by the nukes, the planet was renamed to Eden Prime and served as the main planet from which other colonization efforts were made. No doubt the Hegemony would soon enough have their own bone to pick with the Systems Alliance.

“Captain Miller, I heard you were on the station.”

Terry turned to see Jack Harper walking up behind him. The commando had been through much over the past week and he’d only heard of brief glimpses from either Saren or the official reports. His companions were now gone, and his irises now glowed a faint blue. Upon closer inspection, Jack’s eyes consisted of three blue dots set equidistant apart from each other on a glowing circle. Some part of the artifact had changed him differently compared to the others it had transformed. “You had something on your mind?”

“A business proposition, mostly. Just hear me out.”

His arms crossed. There were still bigger items lingering on the back of his mind, but he would hear the commando out all the same. “Go on.”

“We’re entering into a galaxy where most of the other races are already leagues ahead of us. This war has also shown the many cracks and holes in both the Systems Alliance and Council. If we as a species are to remain comparatively strong to the other races, we can’t afford to be hamstrung by bureaucracy and appeasing the public. Disaster has ensued while they’ve squabbled away about peace terms and we are still no safer than we were at the start of this conflict. We are easy pickings if we don’t stick together.”

“Alright, so what did you have planned?”

“An organization set on advancing human interests unofficially. Exploring the vastness of human potential. I would see no better candidate than you to help establish the vision for it.”

“Why?”

“Consider your biology. From sheer desperation, you were forged to protect people amid a hostile, lifeless system and built yourselves what had initially been a new home for humanity. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Imagine what more we could accomplish. Besides, do you really wish to stick it to the Council to fix problems at our doorstep? Especially when they have the interests of their own people to tend to?”

“I’d still rather instigate change away from secrecy where people can see what we desire. That the means aren’t nebulous or possibly contradict public well-being.”

“They’ve already built their own prosperity. It’s time we’ve built ours. What say you?”

It was uncomfortable. He agreed with the bureaucratic nature of the powers he’d been discussing, but the rhetoric regarding the means to the ends didn’t sit well with him. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mr. Harper. That said, I consider the protection I offer to be of more universal interests. Besides, I’ve got bigger matters to tend to.”

Jack raised a curious brow. “Such as?”

“That’s a conversation for another day.”

“I see.” He drew a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket and shuffled one out before offering Terry one. “You sure about this? It’s the only time I’m offering.”

The Commonwealth started to file out of the doors behind him. “Hard pass. I’m not sure I agree with whatever you’re implying you’ll be doing in the future, but you take care of yourself.”

“That’s fine. You’ve made your choice and I’ve made mine.” As the captain turned his back, Harper drew a lighter to the end of the cigarette and huffed a cloud of smoke.

* * *

**Jan 3, 2158**

**Portland / Earth / Sol System / Local Cluster**

Icy cold rain matted the top of his head. Andrew never talked much about his home city. The time he did were largely centered around how old many of the buildings still were. Now that they reunited with Earth again, there was no better time to see what the late old man had been talking about. No doubt since his departure, the skyline had grown ever so slightly taller. Many of the older industrial structures had been gradually swept away by time, but most of the restaurants, parks, bridges, and statues continued to reside.

Earth had been severely shaken since the wormhole to the Exodus Project collapsed. In the wake of further instability and panic over the continuity of humanity, a Third World War had broken out roughly at the turn of the Twenty-Second Century. Even half a century later, much of Earth hadn’t fully recovered from nuclear bombardment, putting even greater pressure on the starved planet. In the conflict’s wake, many of the global governments and organizations underwent heavy rebranding and formed a shaky agreement to put aside differences and reinitiate the effort to start expanding humanity back to the stars.

After the discovery of Prothean facility filled with technology on Mars’ southern hemisphere in the late-2140s, the remains of the USA, European Union, the Chinese People’s Federation, United Nations – reorganized into the Union of Incorporated Nations – formed the Systems Alliance the year after, bringing relief to a planet stuck in a perpetual state of concern for over a century. With the tech they brought back, the planet began to flourish again. It wasn’t perfect, but it was certainly better than it had been in decades.

Poverty was still a persistent problem, however. Shifted around by war and economic depression, Portland’s homeless population remained persistent as ever. Looking to a patch of grass behind a shuttle station, there was a camp of ancient camping gear surrounded by waves of thorn bushes. On the concrete wall lining the back was heavy graffiti with either personal mottos, murals, and gang emblems. More carried their belongings around in shopping carts with a plastic tarp thrown overtop to keep it dry in the typically wet months of the Portland winters.

He turned his gaze skyward at the overcast, hearing the familiar buzz of an interplanetary vessel. Its underside was barely visible through the dense clouds and it had been bound northeast to the now retrofitted airport. No doubt, many would soon be making their first trip off Earth to start new lives on unknown worlds far from here. Far from whatever problems they faced. Come to think of it, there was something vaguely ironic about being born half a galaxy away only to return to Earth.

Above all, Andrew carried Earth’s reputation with regret, but nostalgia. He recognized it was a damaged world undone by the relentless abuse from its inhabitants. It was marred, but beautiful. Terry didn’t see it, but perhaps it just needed some time for perspective.


	25. On Uneven Ground

_These last few years have been nothing but incredibly distracting. I’ve been looking into these artifacts when I can, but trouble is increasingly knocking on the Alliance’s doorstep. By now, the Alliance does have their own embassy on the Citadel and their plight hasn’t gone unnoticed. However, we’re still lending out our aid in great quantities. Pirates and slavers attack their outer colonies with increasing frequency, and it’s starting to irk me. There’s just too much territory to protect simultaneously._

* * *

**Dec 23, 2166**

**Commonwealth State R &D / Midgard / Mani Cluster**

“I don’t care how crazy he may have sounded. Had you at least brought Dr. Qian or Hah’Dah in we might’ve had the opportunity to peel the layers of their minds back for a better picture. Or at least I would’ve.” After nearly a decade, Saren finally decided to reach back out. He’d been a Spectre for five years at that point and genuinely wished to reestablish their friendship out of respect. That said, he probably should’ve instilled a better mentality in the prospering turian Spectre.

Their friendship had been frail to say the very least and while Terry did agree with the ideology behind Saren’s methods, he didn’t agree with the final performance. _‘He wasn’t long for this world to begin with. Typical of his work, he’d been driven mad. Same goes for the bounty hunter. You wouldn’t have gained anything from either of them.’_

“Dead men don’t talk. I don’t have the capacity to plunge my fingers into decaying gray matter and fish out physical words and images.”

_‘Whatever. I got their files. It’ll take me years of hiring contractors to sort out, but I got what I needed. Not anything to necessarily convict the Alliance of their activities out here, unfortunately.’_

“If you would remove your blinders for five minutes, you’d remember that this is much bigger than the Alliance.”

_‘That doesn’t change how the personnel involved were from the Alliance. There’s no evidence to suggest they’ve gone rogue. Still, Qian mentioned an artifact of immense power. If only I got a glimpse-’_

“I’ve known these artifacts to spew nothing but plague and madness, you blundering fool. If your wish is to join the likes of so many before you, twisted and decayed into a faceless blob, I won’t stop you. I’ll even do you the favor of torching your reanimated corpse.”

_‘And what do we have to gain by showing this mysterious sickness suspicion and fear? We need to understand it and how it works. Especially if we can use this. Before the late doctor’s demise, he was inspecting this artifact’s application towards the manipulation of the geth. Geth! Now what does that tell you?’_

“Fine. Forward me the details.”

_‘Spirits, you’re tenacious. It’s Spectre evidence, remember? Classified for the time being.’_

“Don’t make me pull rank, Saren.”

_‘Tell you what, Terrence. Since you asked, I’ll give it to you once I’m done deciphering the information and investigating the site of the supposed artifact. I’ll even go over the play-by-play of the mission once I’m done.’_

“Fine. But I hope you don’t take too long.”

_‘Anyways, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a briefing with the Council in a couple of minutes.’_

He thumbed the end-call button and shut off his omnitool. Terry had been in a booth overlooking the holding chamber for the artifact they had acquired years ago. Along with its reinforced room, it still resided safely in its safe, tucked away neatly for safe keeping. Inside the cabin was the cabinet of scientific ethics board members discussing the nature of the artifact within. “But we need to understand how it affects its victims,” another protested again.

“And just where are we going to find volunteers for this sort of thing?”

“Perhaps we could start drawing from our convict population?”

“That wouldn’t be possible under the statute of protection for prisoners against unfair punishment. Besides, we would run out too quickly before we got any meaningful information.”

“We still need sentient beings to expose to it.” The last protest struck a nerve with him. The bad memories started to flow up like bile. It was only sheer will that managed to push it back down again. The contempt that it left in its wake floated in his head. Suddenly, it pulled inward, concentrated on a single idea.

“Doctors, could I offer an alternative?”

The rest of the board turned to him. “If you have anything, captain, it would be appreciated.”

“Batarian attacks have increased along Alliance colonies in the Attican year after year and it’s a threat the Alliance is taking seriously. The pirates typically bring heavy firepower to these attacks, but I do review these incidents heavily with the Alliance chain of command. If you would give me the permission to do so, I would procure whatever specimen needed to conduct your research.”

“But what of the Hegemony? Wouldn’t they shift their ire to us?” It wasn’t an unreasonable question. Even after all this time and at this distance, they didn’t completely escape the Hegemony’s attention.

“These gangs have been disavowed by the Hegemony. As far as we can tell, they’re up for grabs. They’ll be tough to acquire, but once they’ve disappeared from public view, they’re ours for the keeping. At our current rate, we’ll find no shortage of subjects to deliver, either.”

“This _is_ still a violation of the ethical guidelines established by this committee, captain.”

“There are a number of loopholes we could use in the guidelines. The captain is right.”

“And you’re agreeing?”

Another of the board raised his hand. “I agree with the captain’s proposal.”

“Fine. Let’s put this to the vote.”

* * *

**April 12, 2170**

**Mindoir**

It was just another attack out of dozens, but this one was so much worse. This time, the Alliance troops arrived far too late and didn’t find any survivors. The entire colony had either been executed or taken by the slavers. The skies were still darkened by the smoke from the raging fires dotting whatever was left of the colony. The ground had been littered with corpses of the colonists who bothered to protect themselves or wouldn’t have made sufficient slave material, the attacking batarians who had been cut down later by the retaliating Alliance marines, and a few marine bodies who hadn’t been put into body bags yet.

Most of Terry’s day had been spent gathering the dead for identification. The colonist bodies at most reached into the several hundreds. There were still thousands more unaccounted for. Thousands of hapless souls now shipped off to either Khar’Shan or deep into the Terminus never to be seen again. Internally, it made him absolutely livid. Whatever their personal justification, it was nullified in the face of thousands of innocents either killed or enslaved.

“How many are we looking at, Captain?” It had been several years since he’d seen Lieutenant Anderson. He was one out of a cast of rotating faces he met along the various missions to rescue or recover overrun colonies.

“Six hundred and thirty-eight colonist fatalities so far. I’m still finding bodies in many of the wrecked buildings across town,” he answered grimly.

“Still no sign of a survivor?”

“None, lieutenant. I wish I had better news for you guys, but I’ve long since gotten used to being stuck in triage-mode.”

“Sounds like you’ve got history with these guys.”

“Had several encounters in our space before we made contact with the Citadel. They’ve stopped since. We’re too far out and too closely packed for the batarian’s interest. And we put out enough incentive for them to keep their distance to begin with.”

“Yeah? How’d the Commonwealth achieve that?”

“The Hegemony had a colony on what’s now Eden Prime. Originally, we tracked a lot of their ship activity coming and going from that planet. We dropped several nukes on that colony to put it out of commission.”

“Jesus. Was that necessary?”

“It got their attention. We figured if it wasn’t their homeworld, it would undermine their ability to continue waging war significantly. Unfortunately, the Council finally touched base with us before we’d gotten even close to Khar’Shan. Now we’re left with a permanent, unofficial border conflict.”

“You would’ve gone that far?”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“The cost would’ve been too great.”

“I see no issue driving them back.”

“You speak of them like they’re animals.”

“History lesson, Anderson. The batarians have _never_ gotten along with _any_ of the space-faring races. What we have here right now is just another blip on a track-record of horrible encounters and shitty decision-making on their behalf. They’re a blight and I see no reason to treat them otherwise.”

“And what’s your solution? Drive them to extinction? Are you even hearing yourself?”

“Slavery is deeply ingrained in their culture. None of this will stop unless…” He struggled to bite back the second half of his response. Anderson didn’t need more ammunition. “It’s clear this conversation isn’t going anywhere. I’ll just get back to searching for additional bodies.”

“Yeah… I’ll catch you later captain.”

Terry needed to clear his mind. Or at least get some sense of justice for the atrocities committed the day before. At the end of the blood-filled street was a marketplace. The place had been burned out, but there was still a significant portion of goods on display that were untouched. Grabbing the nearest jar, he unscrewed the lid and poured the contents out. No spoons, but he’d worked with enough surgical operations to prefer his nanites anyways.

There were interesting bits to batarian culture that tied into the eyes. They believed the eyes were the orifice through which the soul exited the body upon death. Gouging them out would prior to death was considered a denial of rebirth. Afterwards, treatment of the corpses was irrelevant except for removal of the eyes. His attention was affixed on the first batarian corpse he could find. He would worry about preserving the eyes later.

* * *

**Jan 21, 2171**

**Outside Spectre Requisitions / Citadel Station**

“And I assume this terran captain is as just as much an ass as you are? It would certainly explain your charm.” The younger turian with deep maroon plating and white colonial markings was Nihlus. While not nearly from as destitute a background as he was, Nihlus was from a lower tier and subsequently surrendered hope he’d ever gain any higher standing. He was nine years younger than him, yet he acted like someone twice that difference. It did explain how he ended up relocated between squads three times.

“Oh, most certainly,” he returned with equal snark. “And he’ll be ten times the man you can ever wish to be.” If the protégé would be playing this game, Saren wasn’t going to let himself be outdone.

“Ten times the ‘what’ exactly?”

“His decorations aren’t for show. The Relay-314 Incident proved that well enough.”

“Decorations don’t make a man. Anyways, you still hung up on that, you fossil?”

“It forms much of the galaxy we currently live in. Pay attention. You won’t get another opportunity to see it.”

Terrence had been approaching from out of his view when he initially spoke up. “Well well well, what have we here? Pleasure seeing you again, Saren. Glad to see you’re still out in the field.”

After messaging each other prior, Terrence mentioned he’d be passing through the Citadel and he invited him for a brief meet-up. Despite how he felt about humans in general now, he could at least look past it for Terrence specifically. His mandibles widened in a smile and he greeted, “Likewise. I’ve got someone for you to meet.”

The captain tilted his head to the side before walking up to Nihlus. They roughly stood at the same height to each other. “What do we have here?”

Saren let out a chuckle under his breath. “You gave me that same look back then. This how you greet all people?”

“Just potential colleagues. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Nihlus Kryik, at your service.” The young turian beamed with a cheeky grin and a bow like he was on stage receiving an applause. “I now see where Arterius gets it.”

“I’m flattered. How’d you find him, Saren?”

“This subordinate runt is quite the troublemaker. Doesn’t exactly get along well with his superior officers, but he does know how to think quickly on his feet. I’ve offered to mentor him and forward his name to the Council after some missions. He’ll be the first of many under my tutelage,” Saren explained. “On a stray tangent, he is a much more liberally minded individual.”

Nihlus scoffed, crossed his arms, and rolled his eyes. “It’s called creativity, old man. I was under the impression you actually had some.”

A smile wormed its way onto Terrence’s cheek. “At any rate, I’ve got to get a move on. My schedule is tighter than anticipated. Anyways, I’ll be watching your career with bated breath, Kryik.” His hand slammed hard on Nihlus’ bicep before he strolled off to the embassies.

The younger turian watched as he disappeared before he let off the equivalent of a whistle. “That man is trouble.”

“He’s brave, cunning, and he’s saved my cowl more times than I can count. You should be counted lucky for meeting him on such good terms.”

“He’s got that same crazed look in his eyes that you do. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s actually a krogan in a terran skin-suit.”

Saren shrugged sheepishly and nodded in forced agreement. “Terrence is most certainly belligerent; I’ll give you that. He wasn’t easy on me either, but you’ll thank him for it in time.”


	26. Oncoming Firestorm

_Elysium was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Years of the Hegemony indirectly hounding Alliance colonies through pirates and terrorists came to a head when the largest gathering of pirates in centuries conglomerated on the crown jewel of the Systems Alliance’s colonial territories. Following the assault, the Alliance opened another channel to request for an advisor for their counterattack on the pirates’ hideout. It initially reignited any concerns I had that I’m little more than a trading card to the Commonwealth, but I hastily brushed aside such concerns. I’ve waited years for an opportunity like this._

* * *

**Aug 25, 2176**

**Illyra / Elysium / Vestus System / Petra Nebula**

The only glimpse Terry got of her was at a field hospital set up towards the heart of the city. Her reddish-brown hair was kept back in a bun and there was a fresh scar stretching over one of her emerald green eyes and across her freckled face. She was barely held together by a multitude of bandages and IV drips. The recently promoted lieutenant held the ground and directed evacuation efforts when the assault started. The sight reminded him painfully of Clouram and he instinctively averted his gaze. “That’s her?”

Major Kyle nodded in confirmation. The major was of Asian descent and had short black hair with the shadow of a moustache. “Believe it or not. She rallied the remaining battalions and maintained a defensive perimeter until reinforcements arrived. When we found her, she was exhausted and malnourished from days of fighting.”

“Impressive. I suppose she’s quite the leader.”

“She’s a recent N7 graduate. The best we have to offer and she’s on her way to being awarded the Star of Terra. Anyways, we can gossip later.”

“Of course. Lead the way.” Originally, the mission to Elysium had been another cleanup operation. Take a running tally of the casualties, see to it the locals get the medical treatment they need, and safeguard the colony as reconstruction begins assuming the place hasn’t been entirely eviscerated. Midway through the first day, he’d been pulled off his command to discuss a more permanent solution to the influx of pirates throughout the Attican.

A pair of Alliance soldiers stood attentively outside of an idling shuttle, waiting to take them to what remained of the capitol building. “Admittedly for the past several years, we’ve been working blind. Thanks to the help of your technicians, we’ve finally managed to piece together enough of the pirates’ center of operations.”

Terry took a seat inside the shuttle, watching the door shut behind him. The shuttle shook vigorously as it propelled off the ground. “Glad we could contribute. Anything specific?”

“They’ve operated out of the Karaht System in the Styx Theta. Other than that, the admiralty wanted to discuss this further over a conference with some Commonwealth officials.”

“I suppose you’d want us throwing in as well?”

“I’m not sure, but Commonwealth troops on the ground would make a big difference.”

“Just as a reminder, we’re not tanks. We are neither invulnerable nor are we combat androids. It’s still flesh, blood, and bone underneath my suit.”

“Of course, Captain. Like I said, this is something to be discussed at the conference.”

The intercom buzzed from the pilots’ cabin. _‘We are approaching the capitol building. Best get ready to disembark soon.’_ Getting out of the shuttle, he glimpsed up at the building ahead. Much of the building had been eaten away by the fighting the days before. More Alliance soldiers were inside moving debris and emptying out rooms to recover bodies and search for survivors. The elevators were still out of order, so they made their way up the stairs of the front hall.

More officers filed into the conference room down the hall from the top of the steps. Peering inside, the conference room opened into a semi-circle with a holographic table situated at the center. Most of the higher-ranking officers were attending remotely and had their images projected holographically, including the entirety of the Commonwealth commanders. Towards the center was a bearded admiral with streaks of brown quickly disappearing in his gray hair. “Captain Miller, nice of you to finally join us,” Hackett greeted.

“I was still assessing the damage outside. It’s extensive, but not nearly as bad as some of the further-out colonies in prior years.”

“Lieutenant Shepard acted admirably for the situation she was placed in. Anyways, take your seats, gentlemen. It’s time we focused on the issue at hand.” Terry had only started approaching a vacant seat when Hackett explained, “As most of you have been informed, the fleet gathered most of the remaining vessels from the pirate armada and pieced together a sufficient map of their staging ground. We’ll be throwing a lot of men at this problem, so this isn’t something we’re going to initiate next month. 

“Plans are to continue having heavy patrols dot our colonial infrastructure to deter any more events like this until we’re ready. Starting next week, we’re starting to pool resources to absorb whatever loss of life. After the meeting, I will be forwarding each of you details for equipment that will need to be dedicated to this mission. All that said, in previous discussions, some of the admiralty has voiced concern that we’re walking in blind.”

A voice spoke up from the crowd. “What are you proposing, admiral?”

“We have been discussing the Commonwealth’s potential involvement, but it’s a contentious topic. The Commonwealth did involve themselves significantly during the First Contact War and that is still a debt we have yet to properly pay.”

_‘I apologize if I sound pretentious Admiral Hackett, but what exactly is the point of our presence in this conference? We are fully willing to continue providing aid, but we wish to avoid spreading ourselves too thin or getting embroiled further in any politics involving the Hegemony than we already are.’_

“All I ask for is expertise. We know you’ve had a conflict with Hegemony in the past and we believe it invaluable to know their fighting style. Perhaps from a veteran of that era.”

_‘There are few who still serve in the armed forces who were active during that time. Fortunately, one is present. Captain Miller?’_

Terrence gradually built the courage to stand, feeling several glances look his way. Yanking off his helmet, he glanced over at one of the many holograms of the terran command staff. “Yes, sirs?”

_‘Would you be willing to contribute to this effort to defend our allies?’_

He swallowed hard. After Saren and the fallout from the Earthborn Crisis, he’d been given a preconceived notion about any future contributions he had made militarily on a much more personal level. Part of his mind expected that the effort would’ve been rendered null in the immediate aftermath. For all he knew, the Alliance was preparing to have him dished up as a scapegoat for any military blunders that occurred at the hands of those actually responsible for overseeing the operation.

His hand moved to make a gesture of rejection when another trail of though crossed his mind. Pirates had been a perpetual threat at their boarders. The Hegemony more so. There was no telling how much pirate and slaver attacks would intensify if this was done poorly. This was the opportunity to see this done right. This was the opportunity to see the batarians put in their place. He wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to paint some desolate rock at the edge of the Attican with some slaver scum’s blood.

It was merely a matter of killing two birds with one stone. “I’m aware of the potential dangers of such an operation, but I’m nothing but available to answer our allies’ call. As I understand it, this role is advisory in nature?”

The admiral answered, “Correct. You’ll be providing tactical backup to whoever is assigned with commanding this operation. Along with other plans for preparation, you will be provided data on our findings from recon conducted of the destination area.”

“Very well,” he shrugged before sitting back down.

“Good. Since that’s sorted, we’ll be shifting our attention towards the preparation phase.”

* * *

**Sept 21, 2177**

**Arcturus Station / Arcturus / Arcturus Stream**

“I’m not sure I follow,” Major Kyle shrugged.

Kyle wouldn’t have been his first choice of officer to lead such an operation of this scale, but that wasn’t his choice to decide. “Pirates and gangs, especially batarian, are like any other guerilla. What they lack in proper discipline is ultimately made up for with desperation, aggression, and surprisingly effective armaments. For example, their IEDs are just as dangerous to us is it is to them and they have been known to resort to suicide tactics once they’ve been cornered. It’s best you instill in the men not to take any precautions.”

“I take it you’ve had experience then.”

“More close encounters than I’d like to admit. On a side note, what does the Alliance have for more… volatile munitions?”

“Grenade launchers and rocket launchers are already planned on being issued for the initial approach.”

“What about flamethrowers? Those will become essential in flushing out hardpoints and close quarters.”

“Those are typically reserved for colonial detachments, meant for cutting through dense flora.”

“It shouldn’t be hard for you to requisition such munitions, should it?”

“No. I’m just saying that the brass might question me on the reasoning for equipping the troops with flamethrowers.”

“Tell them it’s for tactical purposes.” His omnitool buzzed from an incoming call. “Pardon me.” He made for the hallway outside of the major’s office and tapped the ‘accept’ key.

_‘Terrence! How is it?’_ Saren greeted.

He blinked in surprise. “Saren. I didn’t expect to hear from you. You’re awfully excited.”

_‘Feeling my mood on an upswing and I figured I should call in. How have you been?’_

“Well enough. I’m currently in the middle of operation planning right now.”

_‘I apologize then. What’s it for?’_

“Classified. Anyways, how’s Nihlus?”

_‘I don’t keep constant tabs on him. Nihlus isn’t my pet. That said, he’s been on his own for a few years now, carrying around that absurdly cheerful behavior around with him. I can_ feel _it every time he’s near.’_

“Don’t let it get through to you. What are you calling about anyways?”

_‘Finally had a small breakthrough on that information I picked up from Qian over a decade back. I’ve been sitting on it and only gave it the attention it needed between missions from the Council. Finally cracked the code. Nothing specific yet, but I was going to have a look for myself.’_

“Listen, come prepared as much as possible. This is not to be taken lightly. If there really is some artifact waiting at the end of this treasure hunt, come prepared to contain. I don’t want to get news you went insane or were melted down.”

_‘Terrence, just listen to yourself. You’re worried, I get it. But I’m as good as you, if not better. It’s been a while since we’ve been apart. I’m an adult and I can take care of myself. You can stop pretending you’re my father.’_

“Then I anticipate hearing back from you, however long it takes. I want word on what you’ve found. Don’t get sloppy.”

_‘I won’t.’_

* * *

**Saren’s transport en route to unregistered coordinates**

“I won’t.” His talon brushed the disconnect key barely a second later. He only really called to boast about his findings and to partially vent his excitement. Otherwise, he’d put a hole in the side of the ship out of anticipation.

The ship he received was much bigger than the tiny shuttle he and Terrence worked out of back before the Relay-314 Incident.Currently, he used it to house several of the various archeological contractors he’d dragged along for this last leg of his journey. He chalked down their payments as necessary operating expenses and got away with keeping them onboard for years. Also, it made sure they were all in one place. Saren prized the work they were doing, and he didn’t want word getting out about it.

The journey had thus far taken them deep into Terminus Space, close to the border where quarian territory once resided before the Morning War. His eye wandered back to the deep scan monitor of any sign of change. Nothing but the celestial bodies themselves continued to display. One of the archeologists finally wandered into the front cabin. “I assume we’re getting close?” she asked.

“We’ve only left the relay for an hour. It’ll take us a little longer before we arrive. What exactly did you say we were looking for?”

“The artifact?”

“I mean what the artifact is residing in. Will we have to dig for it? Is it a facility? Is it a ship? I need answers on what to look for. Otherwise, we’re just putzing around out here wasting air and fuel. Now look over what you’ve found again and read off something for me to use.”

“And we have. We’ve been pouring over the source material you’ve given us. All we know is that this… weapon or whatever it might be is massive. Now, size is relative on a galactic scale, but where we’ll be landing should be just as big if not bigger.”

“Thank you. That’s a start. Can you tell me anything specific?”

“Nothing that hasn’t been mired by the author’s condition.”

The radar monitor buzzed with an additional ping. “Spirits behold. There it is. Have your team ready to dock. We’ll arrive in the next hour or so.”

“Understood, Specter Arterius.” The salarian exited hastily to inform the others.

His mandibles continued to spread in a grin. The monitor zoomed in on the source of the feedback. The doctor’s previous assessment was correct. Whatever the shuttle was picking up, it was easily dreadnought sized. “My… What have we here?”


	27. Forged in Infamy

_Torfan could’ve been so much worse. But we did our jobs. Even after the piling Alliance casualties, we showed those Batarian scum we aren’t just going to roll over and submit to their bullshit. Sure, the media made an absolute hassle of the whole situation, but I don’t regret burning that whole compound to the bottom of the hole it was built into. Millions more human civilians were sold into slavery and I would’ve slaughtered ten batarians for every human life taken._

* * *

**July 18, 2178**

**SSV _Hyderabad_ inbound to Torfan / Karaht System / Styx Theta**

“Captain, what’s that you’ve got on your helmet?”

“Over the visor? A raven’s head painted over a heart.”

“Mind sharing what for?”

“Mourning.”

“I apologize, captain.” It was uncommon for other soldiers to ask about the emblem Terry painted onto the helmet, but the frequency increased among Alliance troops. Not that he minded answering, but he didn’t let the conversation continue much further than the image’s face value.

Currently, he and over a hundred thousand Alliance personnel had just exited FTL and were rapidly approaching their destination. Scooping up the helmet and locking it over his head, he strode down to the briefing chamber. It wasn’t much beyond a small room barely any bigger than a kitchen with a table situated in the center. Out of the middle was a projection of the destination moon. The rest of the space was filled with various officers and squad leaders either in uniform or in full armor in anticipation of deployment. “Captain Miller.”

“Major Kyle.”

“Are you prepared?”

“Just worry about yourself.” He turned his attention to the projection. “This is our objective. A rock deep into the middle of nowhere with the greatest collection of pirates and criminals this side of the Attican. We’ll be arriving in the early hours of the day to catch the pirates when their guard is still down. Group Alpha will be disabling their external arial defenses before storming the compound proper. Group Beta will be deploying further into the compound to erode their internal air defenses before they can respond. With their anti-air neutralized, armored divisions and air support will guide Alpha all the way to reuniting with Beta.

“The biggest concern isn’t the external compound. Many of the buildings based on intel gathered from additional slaver groups stretch deep underground like hornet nests and they’ve been reinforced to withstand orbital bombardment. Ground vehicles and further air support will only be able to neutralize their hangers from there. We have little other choice than to get our hands dirty and flood their underground with infantry. Flamethrowers and inferno grenades have been issued to the squads to flush choke points and barricades.”

The officers in the room shuffled uncomfortably. “How many are we expecting, major?”

“Undoubtedly, they will outnumber us significantly. This is the primary camp for several pirate gangs. Furthermore, the compound is designed to be their one and only fortification with little anticipation for relocation. They will defend this camp to the last. However, that can only mean that this will be there last stand. It will break any significant hold they have in the Attican,” Kyle explained.

“We will be arriving planetside in a few more hours. Are there any final questions before we make final preparations for the assault?” Silence fell over the room. This was it. “Good luck. All of you.”

Everyone filed out of the room save for Terry and Kyle. “Thank you for reserving yourself. I’m not sure if a more aggressive tone would’ve actually boosted moral.”

“It would’ve proven useful. The Skyllian Blitz is still fresh in everyone’s minds. The use of such rhetoric would’ve emboldened them. But since this is still your operation, I’m willing to defer to your judgement.”

“I appreciate that, captain.”

* * *

**Center of the pirate compound / Torfan / Karaht System / Styx Theta**

The rays from the local sun barely stretched over the horizon as the first shuttle landed. The doors opened, revealing only a couple of pirates actually on patrol. The rifles of those inside raised and fired, meeting their marks with rapid precision. More shuttles followed in short order and deployed more Alliance troops on the ground before lifting off. “Let’s get to work, people. I want the demolitionists to get on those AA towers before they come online. Everyone else, start establishing a perimeter.”

Terry stood back while the major continued to issue orders. As far as he could tell, he was only second-in-command to Kyle. The major was more than qualified to handle this assault. A few more stragglers rushed out to investigate the commotion before being cut down by incoming fire unable to clearly see in the morning lighting conditions. Explosions continued to rock the surrounding area as balls of flame tore through the other AA towers nearby. The destruction of the perimeter defenses didn’t go unnoticed by the locals, and they gradually started to pour from every building in the vicinity. “Major, we’ve got tangos closing in on our six,” a soldier reported.

“Hold position. Ignite a beacon so that air support can get a fix on our position.” The fighting only continued to intensify as dawn broke. Alliance gunships overhead laid the path for the advance for reinforcements to back up their continued advance. The first half hour alone went as well as they could’ve hoped for. 

The slavers were beginning to rally and were putting up a much stiffer defense than they were at the start of the assault. After securing much of the external compound, a group attempting to move in on the facility hanger had been pinned down in their push towards the northeast. “Major Kyle, we’ve spotted hostile armor towards the northeast of the compound. They’ve got SAM launchers down there and our gunships can’t get close enough to clear it out.”

“What about our ships in orbit? Do they have a clean shot?”

“We’re too close to be using orbital artillery sir.”

“Fine. See what you can do to flank that tank and take out flush out those heavy gunners. Push forward and flush them out. Captain, hang back and do what you can to keep the others safe.”

“You got it.” Terry enveloped the position in a shimmering blue wall, causing rounds to ricochet off with sounds like rain drops on an umbrella. From the relative safety of the barrier, he watched as more Alliance troops continued to push forward against the remaining surface defenses. Every step had proven costly and more marines fell to batarian rifles just flushing out the SAM launchers. Relief couldn’t have come sooner when the gunships finally returned overhead to drop high-yield missiles on the armored vehicles.

Kyle began to rally and regroup the other soldiers as the surface battle concluded. “Area is secure. Start pushing into the underground.” Terry hadn’t taken notice. He was too concerned with the wellbeing of the injured still scattered around much of the surface. A triage camp had been established right where he had initially landed, and he took the moment to gather the injured there and treat their injuries before assisting the push inside. Overall, the loses experienced by the Alliance thus far were minimal. With the overwhelming force applied, only a few hundred were dead and several hundred more injured.

He had been lugging around a dead marine over his shoulders like a sack of potatoes when another Alliance soldier rushed up to him. “Captain, we’ve got compound locked down.”

“Good. Major’s orders are still to push inside. Get moving. I’ll join you shortly.”

“You guys heard the captain. Breach that door.” The squad pressed themselves against the walls on either side of the door preparing to march in with rifles drawn. Terry hadn’t made it ten meters back to the camp when the blast from the door threw him onto the ground. The door had been blown off its tracks and the pirates had loaded the entrance with something caustic. The marines who hadn’t been vaporized by the explosion ran around in a pained panic as they burned. More pirates rushed out to push them back and finish off the survivors.

They didn’t last long back out in the open, but it didn’t distract from the continuing explosions from around the compound. _‘Major Kyle is down! Repeat, the major is down!’_

Panic quickly ensued as more of the pirates began to retake the compound surface. Attempting to regroup with Kyle, he’d found his squad was in shambles. Similarly, most of the marines had been reduced to charred corpses. The major himself was being dragged by two other soldiers who had moved to assist before he arrived. “How’s the major?”

Terry got on a knee to peel off the burned armor and to start tending to the major’s wounds. “He’s been stabilized, captain, but he’s in no condition to continue fighting. We’ve got to fall back and regroup!”

“What? And risk the slavers regaining the initiative?!”

“They’re dug in too deep, sir!”

“And if we let them pour back out, we will lose any advantage we had at the opening of this fight!”

Another buzz in his earpiece. _‘Sir! They’re rushing the southeast quadrant! We’re regrouping!’_

More calls were starting to roll in from across the facility. The Alliance marines were thrown into disarray. Entering the lower levels of the compound, they were met with improvised defenses composed of ship fuel and other bits of welded metal to build traps at the entrance. Casualties had broken into the thousands from the initial entrance and were continuing to mount as soldiers scattered. “Captain, we can’t stay here!”

“We’re not giving up our position! We’re storming this rock with everything we’ve got! Throw everything you can into resecuring those entrances and reinitiate the pursuit into the lower tunnels!”

“Sir, there’s too many!”

“We expected as much! This is their final stand! They won’t be surrendering this rock, but neither will we! We are the first line of defense against another Skyllian Blitz! We are going to hold out and burn them out because we’re here to make sure none of these goddamn roaches threaten the colonies at home! They’ve taken loved ones and sold them off like cattle! We’re not letting them take another! If you are genuinely incapable of continuing the fight, hang back and let those who still can storm this next and flush these parasites out!” His voice was broadcast across numerous frequencies over the comms. It wasn’t what Kyle would’ve wanted, but the major was as good as down for the count. This mission wouldn’t fail under his watch.

The other marines stared back, initially shaken by his brief angered exchange. They initially shifted in nervousness, unsure of what to make. Quickly enough, they made up their minds. “Understood, captain. What are your orders?”

“Pin them in. The moment the numbers thin, push inside. Use the flamethrowers if you have to but mind your distance.”

* * *

As expected, the day had been bloody. The inside of the slaver’s compound was practically a small city, designed to be as self-sustaining as possible. There were vast sections completely dedicated to aquaponics and would’ve lasted the inhabitants years had they been cut off from the surface. More were completely dedicated to holding slaves of various races. None were left alive after the Alliance marines finally broke the outer defenses. Other chambers were dedicated to brewing alcohol, and the tanks had been accidentally ruptured by a stray incendiary grenade. Smoke subsequently filled the hallways with its choking shadow.

A batarian attempted to flee down a hallway, firing blindly behind him. His head turned for a brief second to catch a glimpse at his pursuers. All four eyes widened with absolute terror as a green blur outlined by biotic energy ran him down like a torpedo. Terry slammed against the batarian hard, crushing him against the wall behind him. The sound of tearing flesh and crushing bone was more prominent than the pirate’s scream.

He overlooked a cafeteria where the defenders had been quickly pinned down in the kitchen area. Gunfire lit up the room like a firework display and navigating the open had become a deadly endeavor. More marines had been deployed from the ships in orbit, slowly feeding into the meat grinder. However, even with the overwhelming numeric advantage, the pirates were quickly losing ground. Similarly, more Alliance troops were closing the distance with the kitchen below.

Suddenly, one batarian peaked up from cover with both hands in the air. The marines hadn’t been expecting a show of surrender and gunned him down. More did the same, throwing their rifles out of the kitchen and gradually exiting into the open with hands behind their heads. _‘Captain, we’ve got multiple tangos down here. They’ve surrendered.’_

“Good. Finish them off.”

Initially, there was silence at the other end of the call. _‘I think my ears are still ringing from the heavy fighting, captain. Say again?’_

“Our mission is to completely flush out this compound. Gun the rest of them down.”

_‘Captain, they’ve surrendered.’_

“They’re criminals, not soldiers. Council law would’ve had them killed anyways. They’re not subject to fair treatment treaties. Now I want to hear gunshots.”

_‘No arguing there, captain. Captain’s orders guys... waste them.’_ A few more gunshots echoed across the room. A couple batarians attempted to flee but were gunned down after only a few steps.

Terry proceeded down the hallway, watching a squad flush out an improvised bunker with a flamethrower. “Squads, I want a sitrep. What’s your progress?”

_‘They’ve started surrendering, captain. No doubt they’re running low on ammo. Others have made a break for the hangers back at the surface.’_

“Cut them off. I’ll be heading back up. In the meantime, my standing order is to kill every last one of these bastards. None leave this moon alive.”

_‘You sure, captain?’_

“We’re not risking any of them escaping. Kill them all.” He broke into a light sprint towards the nearest stairwell. More Alliance marines followed suit as the last of the fighting concentrated in the hanger. The last of the pirates were attempting to flee and had left most of their goods and equipment behind. Already, a few shuttles attempted to fly out only to be met by Alliance gunships and fighters. Others were either still fueling or in smoldering ruin.

“Glad you joined us, captain. We’ve got them on the run, and they’re desperate to get out. Most of them are still fueling.”

“Then we detonate them and ground what’s left of their ships. Use whatever explosives you’ve got left. Make sure they can’t flee.” By now, the remainder of the pirates were effectively cornered. Those who surrendered in the lower levels were summarily executed and those in the hanger couldn’t flee because their ship wasn’t prepared to launch or had made the launch and were swiftly cut down. The explosions from either fuel pump ignited one half of the room and caused the shuttles they were fueling to detonate. The burning shuttles’ crew came tumbling out of the entrances, rolling in fire before expiring from the heat.

* * *

**July 25, 2178**

**Arcturus Station / Arcturus / Arcturus Stream**

The day had been a pyric victory. In three hours of mindless chaos, they’d killed over half a million pirates and slavers of every stripe. Summarily, a warhead had been planted at the lowest level and detonated, creating a large sinkhole where the pirate camp had once been. The Alliance on the other hand had lost over sixty-five thousand of the hundred thousand sent to the moon with an additional twenty thousand injured. Major Kyle survived the fight but had been brought within an inch of his life and suffered heavy burns and internal bleeding.

Terry had been tending to many of the injured personnel prior to being summoned. The last he had the time to check in on was Kyle himself. His injuries were extensive, and he’d been put into a medical coma while he recovered. Half his face had been covered in bandaging with bits of anti-burn cream dotting the bits of exposed skin he still had. He would have to check in with the major later.

Now, he found himself at a conference table with a good portion of the Alliance naval command cabinet along with a few other token Commonwealth members. “Apologies that the mission hadn’t gone smoother than it did.”

“No need to apologize to me, Captain Miller.” The admiral adjusted himself before continuing, “Now, in direct response to the battle at Torfan, the Hegemony has fully withdrawn from Citadel space to their home cluster, the Kite’s Nest. What this implies politically for our future isn’t exactly clear given their checkered history. That said, Alliance patrols have indicated a significant decrease of pirate activity throughout the sector and is projected to drop to historic lows in the span of a couple years.

“The battle itself was undoubtedly costly, but not unanticipated. We agreed it was a necessary and those who participated will be recognized for their contributions. A monument will be erected for those who have given their lives for this monumental feat and individual awards will be given individually to those who survived and lost their lives. Captain?”

Terrence nodded. “Yes, admiral?”

“We are infinitely thankful for your oversight in this battle. It’s good you took command when Kyle was incapacitated. The operation would’ve easily resulted in absolute failure in his absence. That said, both parties are worried about the potential backlash from the public, specifically regarding your treatment of potential POWs. Naturally, the Commonwealth agrees to have your back and we would like to extend the same offer.”

“Thank you, admiral. I’m grateful for the gesture, but I don’t believe such action is necessary.”

“Are you sure?”

“Other governmental entities have already had their fair share of the Hegemony’s blatant disregard of political boundaries. As far as I can tell, my commands are given merit by just the batarian’s actions against both the Commonwealth and Alliance alone. Even if the galaxy were to somehow react negatively to dead pirates and slavers, I’m confident it would never amount to anything more than name-calling. If anyone does come knocking at your door, I have no need to hide.”

“We hope you’re right. As for our patrols, we will continue to maintain them until we’re confident the threat has been minimized. Afterwards, we’ll downgrade our patrols to be more local relative to our colonies in the Attican. We will finally see some tranquility in the Attican.” The rest of the meeting was the typical political guff.

After avoiding nodding off for the better part of another hour, he exited with the rest of the admiralty and made his way down to the mess hall. He was starving and needed a cup of coffee above anything else. What was surprising was the collection of surviving marines inside hooting and cheering. “Hey captain! Over here!” The man who called him over was already a bit tipsy.

“What’s this about, private?”

“Just having fun, sir. We would’ve been goners without you, captain. Spreading around drinks for the crew. In commemor-commemoration, yeah?” The marine drunkenly stumbled over his own words.

He was hesitant to accept the offer. Hunger still gnawed at him, but it could wait just a bit longer. “Suppose a glass couldn’t hurt. Pass me one.”

“Hey, pass a glass for the raven here, Taylor.”

“Funny nickname, private.”

“You’re the one who scrawled the bird on your helmet, captain. Something like ‘butcher’ doesn’t have the same ring to it. Take it up with the others if you don’t want it.”

“I’m just not fond of animal-related titles.”

“Whatever. Here you go.” The private handed off the glass before raising his own. “Let’s have it for the Raven of Torfan! Bastard show’d ‘em what for!” The rest of the crowd cheered, filling the mess with a wave of noise.

Initially, Terry wasn’t sure what to make of the noise. It was a level of praise he hadn’t anticipated, and the flush of pride didn’t go unnoticed. The pride continued to swell in his chest between the hollers and the warmth of the alcohol. He still wasn’t liking the avian nature of the title, but it did have a ring to it. And if a goofy name was the price of hero-worship, it wasn’t half bad. There was no way it would even make it far out of this inner circle of Alliance marines.


	28. The Darkness Speaks

_It’s been a few years since I’ve heard from Saren. I know he said he would get in contact with me whenever he found whatever artifact he’d become so obsessed with, but I’m starting to get worried. In the meantime, we’ve been prying into these mysteries on our own accord. Per my recommendations, we’ve been dragging in stragglers from the aftermath of Torfan for the tests. If anything, we’ll at least understand how this insanity-inducing illness works._

* * *

**March 24, 2181**

**Commonwealth State R &D / Midgard / Mani Cluster**

The vault inside of the holding chamber was left open. The batarians lying around just outside had been bound in straight jackets and were in various states of mental collapse. One was wandering in circles around the northeast corner of the room. Another was curled up in the fetus position right outside of the vault itself, drooling on the floor. A third was the most severely afflicted by the artifact’s influences and had ran at the blast-proof glass. He rushed over and repeatedly smashed his head against the surface, foregoing his well-being completely.

It was decided for the time being this was enough. “Captain Miller?”

“Yes doctor?”

“I think they’ve spent enough time in there. With any luck, we can at least use their autopsies to list potential symptoms to look out for. We’ll hand such details off to you for further analysis and field-utility of such data.”

Terry sighed. He slipped on the protective hood of the lab suit and stepped into the airlock leading into the chamber. Two other lab workers flanked him in similar beige colored uniforms. “I’ll get our friend by the vault. You two grab the others. Call out if any of them give you trouble.” The one facing toward the vault at the center of the room had his back to him and only make a light groaning. “Alright, get to your feet, rat. We’re leaving.”

No sooner had he yanked the batarian back to his feet did the batarian whip around to face him. All four eyes glowed a deep red like a traffic light, causing him to yelp and recoil with panic. As a safety protocol, he wasn’t allowed to bring any weapons inside and his hip was suddenly starting to feel very lonely where his sidearm holster would’ve been. Its jaw hung open, twitching before it uttered words in a voice unlike any batarian he’d ever heard before. **“I have watched your plight and I see promise. Your species is primitive, but you’re on the path to become so much more…”**

Panic gripped his mind with a vice. Behind his back, nanites oozed through his suit to form a slim blade just out of the batarian’s view. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Whatever had come over the batarian heaved a breath like the wheeze of air ventilation. **“I am Nazara. I have come to uplift your kind. A gift of ascendence. I offer further exploration of your species’ potential. Longevity. Knowledge. Strength.”**

The name felt bitter in his mind. It was vague. For a moment, he struggled to remember where he heard it before. “All I hear are lies, Nazara. What is your true motive? Last I checked, all you had to offer was madness and nightmarish mutations. Or is this body you possess not evidence enough of your true intentions?”

**“This creature is not worthy of our embrace. From their ashes, you will continue to grow. Your civilization will be eternal. All you have to do is accept our offer.”**

“Perhaps I should be more poignant.” Against all better judgement, Terry ripped his hood off and dropped it to the ground next to him. “Your promise of ‘ascension’ drove Ali- my friends to madness and destruction. Or is she another ‘creature’ to be swept aside like dust for your inflated glorious future?”

**“Are you so desperate to cling to mortal attachments to ignore what I have to offer? Or have you forgotten how your kind have been relegated to irrelevance? Let us build you a future.”**

“I see no future with you. As far as any reasonable being should tell, you’re nothing but destruction and lies.”

**“And why do you believe you are made arbiter of your species’ desire our wealth?”**

“Why do _you_ believe we’re even remotely that gullible?”

**“We are eternal. We have existed long before your species even evolved. You can spare yourself if only you yield.”**

“No. We won’t. Now fuck off.”

**“Hmmm. Perhaps it was an oversight communing with you. Better for you to join her, then. Your ashes will feed the rest.”** Pain and bright red filled his vision, causing him to collapse to the floor. It felt like being bathed in white phosphorous and lying down on a concentration of gravity stronger than a planet core. Screams and ringing filled his ears like a chorus of doomed souls aboard a crashing ship. Terry barely mustered the strength to biotically slam shut the vault door, ending the quake of energy. Vision of the world around him returned, but his senses still gave lingering feedback from the sensory overload.

In front of him, the red glow had gone from the batarian’s eyes and he fell to a lifeless slump on the floor, gurgling vomit and froth. His thumb and index finger continued to rub his eyes, trying to erase the looming red shade in his eyes. The inside of his skull still throbbed with pain unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The first thing he heard was a yell from the intercom. _‘Captain?! Captain! Are you alright?!’_

“I’m… fine… did you guys see that?” Terry was cautious as he stood back up again. His legs still felt like they were going to give out from under him, but he was otherwise fine. The other two lab assistants rushed over to him.

“We’ve still got our protective gear on, Captain Miller. All we saw was you writhing on the floor and the specimen screaming.”

“I… I see…”

“Did you see something?”

“No. It was just nightmares and pain. That’s it.”

“We’ll get the other specimen moved out. You need to head down to the medbay for quarantine and a med checkup.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll see myself out.”

* * *

**Jan 3, 2183**

**Terran Frigate _Loki_ patrolling Newton / Keppler Verge**

“That’s already the second one this week. They’re becoming more frequent.” The geth were reclusive in nature, hence much of the galaxy didn’t have any information about the synthetic species. This was uncharacteristic. Towards the second half of 2182, geth vessels had been moving up and down the Attican Traverse. Initially, they mistook it as a mere fluke. It started off as once a month. Then three times a month. Then once a week. It was barely the new year and trouble was continuing to mount.

Worse, they were starting to jump colonial ships heading out to Alliance colonies. It was only just getting to the point of being a probable cause for concern. No doubt the Alliance Navy would want this information passed along to either start issuing travel warnings to their citizens or start sending patrols to protect their colonies. As for the Commonwealth, they had barely expanded beyond the Mani Cluster and were in no real danger so long as the geth didn’t suddenly decide to flood the Mani Cluster and Midgard with everything they had.

The biggest question lingering on Terry’s mind was what reason did the geth have for expanding beyond the Perseus Veil. From accounts by the quarians, their interests were largely in their own self-preservation. Otherwise, the geth would’ve undoubtedly held more overtly expansionist tactics or pursued the quarian Flotilla in the aftermath of the Morning War. Other than that, human targets should’ve been of minimal concern. How attacking human targets would benefit them wasn’t exactly clear either.

However, it did bring his initial meeting with Nazara to mind. It seemed vaguely coincidental, but still largely far-fetched in nature. He would need something much more concrete to work with before connecting the dots. The pile of scrap documented onboard the supply freighter found dead-in-the-water would be enough to warrant worry about the geth, but nothing else. Perhaps it was time to reach out to the Flotilla for some basic understanding of what could’ve riled up the geth this much.

Nazara was the big-ticket item on display right now. All he had was a name, a bunch of nebulous bullshit about ‘ascendance’, and personal accounts that whoever Nazara worked with or for held an array of anomalous capabilities allowing them to manipulate minds and biology. The implications of what damage they could cause was already catastrophic. And there weren’t many alternative sources he could turn to for advice or insight to this supposedly ancient threat. Except…

Saren had been a frequent issue on his mind. It had been over six years since he’d properly heard anything from him. His attempts to reconvene with the turian Spectre had been denied or dismissed with a variant of ‘I’m still digging, I’ll let you know when I find something.’ From what little he could understand from his action, the data he’d pried over fifteen years prior had turned up nothing. What could he still be looking for? At this point, any scant amount of information would’ve proven to be the key that pierced the veil. Saren was delaying and it was starting to scare him.

Shortly after, he made for his office and started up a call. Roland’s facial profile appeared on screen, still mired in exhaustion. _‘Hey Boss, what’s happening?’_ he yawned.

“Another Alliance colony ship jumped by geth. I’ll be putting out feelers on my end, but I need help on this one. Think you could do that for me?”

Roland groaned, obviously tempted to roll straight back to bed. _‘Christ, Terry. What the hell do you even expect from me? I’m a field engineer, not a spook.’_

“I’ll get to intelligence after this, but for now… you’re among the few I trust with this.”

_‘‘Trust’? What the hell is going on out there?’_

“I don’t know. But my… my usual contact for this has gone dark and we needed answers yesterday.”

_‘Shit. I’ll get this done, but you owe me several kegs once this is over.’_

“Don’t count on it.”

* * *

**Jan 27, 2183**

**Terran Frigate _Loki_ docked at the Citadel**

Terry had already suited up and just had his helmet on the desk besides the monitor. “Any last things you can tell me about this quarian?”

_‘Nothing that the intelligence committee hasn’t already forwarded you. She was caught in a scuffle with the geth and fled to the Citadel. After that, she’s disappeared. You might want to check in with C-Sec for any recent quarian arrivals. They’re few and far apart on the Citadel, so that shouldn’t be too hard. You might also want to follow up with any med clinics wherever she’s decided to hide.’_

“I was hoping for demographics. Name, age, color of her suit, maybe height so I know what to look for.”

_‘No name, but she’s on her pilgrimage, so at most the late teens. She stands at roughly a meter and five-eighths and wears a suit with purple and black accents. I’ll send security footage of her for a better idea, but that’s it.’_

“This is more than enough. I’ll have a few other squads set on patrol. We’ll bring her into our custody and keep her safe until we know what the geth are up to.” The call ended and he closed the app. What was left on the monitor was an article from a week back about the recent attack on Eden Prime. The geth finally made their first move and it didn’t escape public notice. What had confirmed his earlier suspicions was the mention of ‘reanimated colonist bodies’ following alongside the geth troops. They even posted some blurry photos alongside the article vaguely depicting what the colonists quickly referred to as ‘husks.’

Shutting off the monitor, he slotted the helmet onto his head and made for the barracks. Most of the squads he had on duty were still there, finishing up equipment checks. “Okay people listen up! You’ll each be forwarded details about our target. She’s carrying an essential piece to whatever the geth are trying to do out in the Attican. I’ll be linking up with C-Sec for further details about what ward she may be hiding on. You’ll be going sector to sector asking for eyewitnesses and information regarding her movements. Investigate med clinics as well for recent check-ins within the last few weeks. Bring her in alive at all costs, but make sure she knows we’re her allies. Is that clear?”

“Yes sir!”

“Good. I want to see you all in the field by ten-hundred hours. Dismissed.” With three other privates behind him, he strode down the gangplank ready to head to war. For his weapons, he didn’t deviate too far from having his rifle slung over his right shoulder and sidearm stuck to his right hip. His armor had recently had the external plating replaced and the helmet had been repainted. It was a recent change to his armor, but a couple of typical red crosses had been added to his shoulder pads. His chest piece bore the same emblem, though it barely peaked out over his ammo pouches. His typical complement of frag grenades had been replaced with extra flashbangs. There was no point if the quarian they were looking for accidentally ended up dead.

The stride through the nearest C-Sec office had been an awkward one. Terry did receive plenty of visceral reactions entering the office like he was about to perform a raid. Not that he cared. Eventually, he marched his way up to a turian with beige plating and light blue markings on his mandible and chin. He paused briefly to read the name on the nameplate on top of the officer’s desk, Chellick Sulitus. “What can I help you with today, captain?” Chellick sported a surprisingly Scottish accent for a turian.

“We’re looking for a quarian who came to the Citadel recently. Where can we find a running record of visitors to this station?”

“Oh, that’s easy. It will require a bit of paperwork, but I can pull up the records for you here.”

“Just pass it over. I’ll get it filled out before too long.” Pulling up the sheet on his omnitool, Terry began furiously typing away.

“Might I ask why you are searching for quarians?”

“A matter of security and Commonwealth interests. I’d explain, but I don’t have much time. She’s in danger and we’re here to secure her safety assuming she’s still alive and on the station.”

“We do keep a track record of all people who immigrate and arrive on the station. Unless she’s also on the corresponding ‘outbound’ records, she’ll be here.”

“Then I hope for her sake, you run as tight a ship as your advertising implies. Here. All done.” He sent the form back without a second thought.

“Splendid. This won’t take but a second.” After pulling up a list on a monitor, Chellick asked, “What time frame are you looking at?”

“Let’s start with the past two weeks.”

“You got it, captain.” Pressing a couple keys, the turian officer made a surprised clicking sound. “Look at that. Just one ‘Tali Zorah nar Rayya’ on record. Does that help?”

“Anything about her whereabouts?”

“Nothing specific, but officers have spotted her interacting with some of the shadier elements on the Presidium.”

“Shady how?”

“Ties to the Shadow Broker. She’s in deep. If you believe she’s in trouble, you better get her out of there.”

“Thanks for the help, Officer Sulitus. We’ll be on our way.” Terry took big strides on his way out of the C-Sec offices, mindlessly brushing past a trio of Alliance soldiers on the way out. “All callsigns, this is Miller. We’ve got a positive fix on a Tali Zorah. She’s been recently sighted on the Presidium. All squads move to patrol accordingly until it’s evident she’s not there. Call if you find anything.”

A couple hours later, the Presidium had been crawling with Commonwealth troops. The entire group was spread thin, scouring each level for a sign of the young quarian. He checked in with all the major medical clinics to no avail. He quickly shifted his attention to many of the lower levels. The lower levels proved to be a much greater challenge. The areas down below were much more compact and the crowds of people traversing the walkways formed endless season of people from various species and walks of life.

They were looking for a needle in a haystack. Even though they had a physical description of the quarian in mind, there was little they could do to circumnavigate the vast swathes of the populace. The pace at which he reached the various underground clinics slowed as a result too, and he quickly resorted to squeezing himself between crowds. _‘Captain, come in.’_

“Talk to me. What have you found?”

_‘Nothing guaranteed, but we heard gunshots. We’re closing in on the source.’_

“Might be worth checking out. We’ve got a fix on your position. Find out what’s going on and hold position.” The call ended and he gestured to his squad, “Double time it, guys. The target might be in trouble.” His pushing had become increasingly aggressive. It could’ve been another random case of unrelated crime on the Citadel, but it was still blood in the water.

_‘We found the source, captain. Looks to be a strip club. A squad of four exited just after we arrived. Two Alliance soldiers, a C-Sec officer, and a krogan just bolted like nothing I’ve seen before. Think they’re our suspects?’_

“Follow them, see where they’re going. We’re on our way to lock that site down. Send us the address.” He whipped out his omnitool and opened a map of the level layout. His eyes quickly glossed over the path and kept it memorized. Stowing the tool, his hands fetched the rifle on his back, and he led the squad into a full sprint. It was a network of back alleys and dimly lit streets leading to the strip club. The back-maintenance tunnels of the Presidium had too many doors for his liking and the rush to the club had been increasingly cumbersome.

His fingers barely brushed the next-door panel when he ground to a halt and yanked himself to the doorway side. The quarian was in plain sight with her back to the door, approaching a group of armored mercs. One was a turian with a skully painted over his face and the rest were fully suited salarians. _‘Captain, is that you at the other end?’_

“We’re here. All squads, we’ve got line of sight on the quarian. Converge on my position.”

_‘That other group from the strip club also followed her here, captain. Should we engage?’_

“Negative. Not until we verify their intentions. Just hold position and keep anyone trying to threaten that quarian penned in.” A small explosion caught his attention. Two of the salarians went flying off their feet as the quarian made for cover. “Shit, she’s in trouble. Engage!” Terry exited cover and lifted a biotic wall in front of his squad to advance. The fight barely lasted a minute afterwards. The mercenaries intending to either kill or capture the quarian didn’t have much for cover. They were pinned from both sides of the alleyway and were cut down before too long.

From the other side, the Alliance soldiers, krogan, and C-Sec officer pressed up from cover as a second front. In the aftermath of the firefight, it seemed the four were equally interested in the quarian for whatever reason. No doubt, the Alliance would’ve been after the same info he was for the quandary regarding the Geth, but the presence of the krogan and turian officer confused him. Perhaps the case was bigger than he’d been initially let in on.

“All callsigns, this is Captain Miller. Stand down. We’ve got the quarian in our custody. Regroup at the _Loki_ for debriefing. You three, head back to the ship as well. I’ll keep the quarian safe with the Alliance soldiers here.”

“Understood, captain. See you back at the ship.” The three privates hurried off shortly after.

He turned his attention back to the squad before him. Terry hadn’t thought he would encounter the soldier he’d briefly glimpsed on Elysium again, but here she was. She donned gray armor with an N7 badge on the right side of her breastplate, true to her name. Her hair was still kept in the same bun too. The universe was too vast for coincidences like this. If it was trying to show him a sign, it had a weird way of showing it. “Commander Shepard, is it? Thanks again for the assist.”


	29. First Contact

_I hadn’t realized Saren had gone off the deep end. The last time I talked with him last year, he acted like nothing was wrong. He now had a prosthetic arm from what he merely brushed off as a work-place injury, but he seemed absolutely normal. I don’t know why he’s helping these “Reapers”, but I know for certain that it’s not good. It’s obvious he hasn’t mentally deteriorated based on the last public call he made with the Council, so he must be helping them willingly. What does he believe this will do?_

* * *

**Jan 27, 2183**

**Presidium lower levels / Citadel**

For a comparatively low-action day, it had certainly been a grueling one crisscrossing the entire station for Amanda Shepard. Even with only four actual firefights in the past three hours against increasingly underprepared mobster, it was the sheer effort of getting from point A to point B. It did help her to forget the verbal abuse she received at the Council meeting not three hours prior for shit she certainly didn’t do. It wasn’t that she was unused to puckering up and maintaining a diplomatic façade, it’s just her ability to do so waned under the conditions of the mission to Eden Prime.

Finding Tali did bring her some reprieve. For someone who could at the very least promise on Saren’s involvement with the geth attack, it was good to see her alive. “You alright, kid?”

The young quarian spat some expletive that her translator couldn’t pick up. “Fist set me up! I knew I couldn’t trust him!” She continued to fidget nervously with her hands.

“Was your suit breached in the fight?”

“I know how to take care of myself. Not that I don’t appreciate the help. Who are you?”

Almost to answer her question, the squad leader from the terran fireteam at the other side of the corridor strode over. “Commander Shepard, is it? Thanks again for the assist.”

“Glad to help, both of you. We were looking for evidence to prove Saren turned traitor.”

Tali seemed to ease up a bit. “Then I have a chance to repay you. But not-”

“Hold up,” the terran captain interrupted. “What’s Saren got to do with this?”

Whatever expression he had, Amanda couldn’t read it through his reflective visor. “He was involved with the geth attack on Eden Prime and shot Spectre Kryik dead.” Keeping a level voice was hard. For what little time she got to know the Spectre, she quickly took a liking to him. His wit and light-hearted nature were a deviation from the few other turians she had the benefit of meeting.

“I… I see… I previously had plans to move Tali’Zorah to safety as well, but since we’re both after the same objective, I hope you don’t mind if I tag along. The geth have similarly been an increasing concern for the Commonwealth.”

She hadn’t fought alongside any before, but she heard the same old stories of marines fighting with Commonwealth troops alongside. “Eden Prime was a mess. If what we found back there is going to become common here on out, I’ll take all the help I can get…” Her hand waved in a gesture to imply he had failed to give his name earlier. Amanda had noticed an obscure emblem along one side of his helmet, but she couldn’t get a proper view of it.

“Apologies. Captain Miller, Twenty-first Rifleman Division.”

“Then let’s get going back to the Alliance embassy. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Agreed. Ambassador Udina will want to see this.”

Fortunately, Udina’s office wasn’t far. Unfortunately, they had to return to Udina’s office. The power-hungry ambassador was a pompous one and she vigorously had to contend with the temptation to swing a knuckle sandwich across his disaffected face. The man wore a white business suit and looked to be in his mid-to-late fifties. “You’re not making my life easy, Shepard. A firefight in the wards? An all-out assault on the Chora’s Den? Do you know how many-?” He did stop briefly to take in the menagerie of non-Alliance staff she’d brought in. “Uh… who’s this? A quarian? What are you up to, Shepard?”

“This quarian’s got the evidence we need to bring down Saren. But go ahead and finish your tirade.” Gunnery Chief Williams craned her neck down, feigning a cough to hide her snickering.

Udina ignored her snark. “I apologize, commander. This whole situation with Saren has had me on edge. We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot, Miss…?”

Tali tucked her hands behind her back and stood up straight. “Tali. Tali’Zorah nar Rayya.”

“Pardon my ignorance, but quarians don’t stray far from the Flotilla. Why are you here?”

“I had been on my Pilgrimage. It’s a passage of rite for adulthood. When we’re of age, we leave the Flotilla to travel the galaxy and either find a place we would like to continuously work or return to our homeship with a technological gift or useful salvage. Anything that will typically make life on the Flotilla easier. It’s a way of proving we are ready for adulthood. A statement proving we can contribute rather than be a drag on our already dwindling resources.”

Amanda cleared her throat. “How did you get tangled up with Saren then?”

“I happened upon a geth patrol on an uncharted world. Reports have been flooding that quadrant of the galaxy about their sudden reappearance. They hadn’t been seen outside of the Veil in over three centuries, so I got curious. I waited for a geth unit to wander from the pack and I jumped it. Took out its memory core in the process.”

“I thought geth memory cores self-destructed as a safety mechanic,” Anderson pressed.

“My people created the geth. If you’re fast, careful, and lucky enough, you can still scrape caches of information. The core had been wiped, but I did manage to save its audio banks. _This_ is what I found.”

Tali pulled out her omnitool and opened the file. The voice was unmistakably Saren’s. _‘The loses of the geth on Eden Prime are irrelevant. I still tapped into the prothean beacon. It’s more than enough to find the Conduit.’_

The other voice was feminine, but Amanda couldn’t recognize it. It hadn’t been anyone she’d encountered back on Eden Prime. _‘It would’ve been wise to bring along the prothean beacon as well. I still can’t make much sense of the information pulled here. With the beacon, I could at least parse the information more directly.’_

_‘The geth detachment of Feros have found a solution. I’ll handle that. Your job is to pry on the investment on Noveria. Afterwards, we’ll reconvene to see if the puzzle pieces fall into place.’_

_‘The Reapers won’t be kept waiting.’_

_‘Their return is within grasp. Their waiting will end soon.’_

Anderson’s smile finally returned. “That’s Saren alright. We’ve got the bastard.”

“I don’t recognize that other voice,” Udina reminded. “The one talking about these ‘Reapers.’”

“After the first geth, I drew the memory cores from a few more geth platforms,” Tali explained. “The geth believe the Reapers are a race of hyper-advanced synthetics that existed fifty-thousand years ago. As I understand it, the Reapers hunted the protheans into extinction and vanished.”

Udina crossed his arms dismissively. “Sounds far-fetched.”

“Sounds like a much better explanation of what I saw from the prothean beacon,” Amanda injected.

Tali added, “The geth believe the Reapers to be gods: the pinnacle of non-organic life. And they believe Saren knows how to bring them back.”

“The Council is going to _love_ this.” She had it with Udina’s snide remarks, but she bit her tongue.

“Whatever can be established about the Reapers’ existence, this still proves Saren’s a traitor!” Anderson insisted.

“Captain Anderson’s right. I’ll request another audience as soon as I can.”

“Uh, commander?” Tali asked. “Before you go, I’d like to help.”

“As I told Captain Miller, we’re taking all the help we can get. Welcome to the crew, Tali.”

“Uh… ma’am?” Williams cut in. “I’m not sure we should be bringing…”

“Williams, not now.”

“Commander? On a similar note, permission to partake in this mission.” Amanda got a sudden jump from the terran captain turning to her.

The request was rather sudden. “Wouldn’t you prefer to see this mission through within your own military?”

“The Commonwealth has been at least aware of something like the Reapers for some time now and we’ve only just recently got a better idea of their intentions. They’ll have no problem putting up with my absence. As for Saren… it’s a personal matter.”

“I don’t follow, but welcome aboard to you too, Miller. What will you need for accommodations?”

“After the chat with the Council, I’ll gather extra equipment for myself to bring along. Weapon parts, suit components, that sort of thing.”

Udina stood from his desk after a chapter of keystrokes. “I hate to interrupt as beautiful a conversation as this, but I’ve gotten the audience we need. Best you take everyone back to the Council Tower, commander.”

“Alright, let’s get a move on, people.” Wrex, Garrus, Ashley, Tali, and Miller had turned for the door and exited. She hadn’t made it a meter out when Anderson grabbed her shoulder. “Captain? What’s up?”

Anderson nervously glanced down the hallway at the pack leaving. “Of all the people you had to drag in commander.”

“Which one?”

“Miller.”

“I don’t understand. What did I miss?”

“‘Raven of Torfan’ ring any bells?”

Her eyes lit up and her head snapped to the back of his green armor as it disappeared down the steps to the front lobby of the embassies. “That’s Captain Terrence Miller?!”

“Look, I owe the man my life for a good couple of occasions, but he’s a force to be reckoned with. You sure you want him along for this mission?”

“I know what happened on Torfan. I saw the report. I’ll keep an eye on him, but a berserker against the nightmares we found on Eden Prime would even the playing field significantly.”

“I hope you’re right. All the same, treat him like any other stranger.”

* * *

**Council Tower / Citadel**

The Council had proven too stubborn to really be bothered with the problem. While it was true that Saren was now branded a rogue Spectre, it was ultimately an empty gesture. If the Reaper ship and geth weren’t indicative enough of such, he had access to ample resources outside of whatever the Council offered. It all came off as the Council being too lazy, but it admittedly did sound reasonable that there would be trouble if they sent an entire armada out to the Attican just for one rogue agent. But then it happened.

Stepping down from the podium at the center of the chamber, she felt like she was floating on clouds. Her, Amanda the first human Spectre. There was a ring to the title, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about it. It was something to flex but at the same time something to keep her low to the ground. As the first, she was the shining example. The pressure should’ve scared her more when Nihlus first revealed his plan. At the very least, the others were supportive. “I’m damn proud of you, kid. And I’m sure you’ll do the same for everyone else.”

“Thanks, Anderson.” The captain had her back since she entered basic. Having grown up with the Tenth Street Reds, she had a less than stellar track record. It wasn’t sustainable forever, and when she wanted out, she headed for the Alliance. All she wanted was to get off that miserable rock of a homeworld and maybe see the galaxy on her way to better things in life. Amanda lied about her age to get in. Anderson caught on but kept her protected. He had her back from basic all the way to the N7 graduation.

She did have some nagging doubts that she would forever live out her service in his shadow. Anderson was a famous veteran of the First Contact War and had as many decorations as he had scars from the conflict and the following years after it ended. After getting her N7 designation, she felt partially like she was just riding his coattails and the guilt didn’t let up. Then Elysium happened. It all happened so quickly, and she found herself at the front of it all before the end of the first wave. That was when she got the scar over her right eye after a batarian with a bayonet nearly got a lethal swing at her. She was lucky to still have her eye.

Accepting the subsequent Star of Terra wasn’t easy. The memory of some of the other unlucky souls in her platoon etched their names into the back of her mind. Maybe it would’ve been one of them accepting this badge in some other interpretation of reality. She made a promise to do them all proud.

Six years later after serving a good few back under Anderson’s command, she finds herself at the helm of a prototype frigate designated the SSV _Normandy_. And now she was considered and accepted into the premier taskforce of some of the galaxy’s best. “Damn, Skipper! It actually happened!” Ashley cheered.

“Keelah! I don’t believe it!”

“Not bad, runt.”

“Congratulations, commander.”

“Thanks guys. Couldn’t have done it without your help, though.” It did prove its worth to be modest in the past, and she wasn’t going to let it get to her head.

Nevertheless, while she was still beholden to the Alliance ambassador, it was nice to put him in his place for once. “Well… congratulations on your promotion, Spectre. I hate to temper your celebrations, but I’ve still got a few things to get done. Anderson, with me.”

Wrex rolled his shoulders. “Reminds me. I’ve got my shit to pack.”

“Same here. I’ve got to head back to my hiding spot to gather my belongings,” Tali added.

“Shepard, if you wouldn’t mind, would you forward a transfer request to C-Sec? Afterwards, I’ll double back to my apartment and pack.”

“I’ll be doing the same. If you don’t mind Tali, I’d like to forward your findings to my superiors. Along with a transfer request, they’ll want to hear about everything you’ve found.”

The group quickly disintegrated as the other hurriedly rushed off for the anticipated mission. Soon enough, all she was left with was Kaidan and Ashley. “Dang. Everyone left in a hurry,” Alenko whistled.

“I saw a Spectre requisitions office in the way in through the C-Sec offices. Should we pass by those by any chance?” Ashley suggested. “I mean, with your clearance, we should have access to some better hardware.”

“No doubt about it. Though I do hear that the Spectres do have to buy their own equipment.”

“Oh bullshit. Really?” Ashley huffed. “Well, with a Spectre’s paycheck, that shouldn’t be a challenge, right?”

She was still strapped for cash. After seeing to half a dozen other chores she’d picked up upon arriving on the Citadel and sending in the request for Garrus’ transfer, she followed up with Ashley’s suggestion and checked out the requisitions office. No doubt she would garner some wealth in just the coming weeks, but all the higher-end equipment was by default miles out of her reach. “Commander? We should probably get going. The price tags aren’t going to lower standing here.” Kaidan glanced around nervously like a kid who lost track of his parent at a grocery store.

“I guess. C’mon. Let’s get back to the ship.” The trio made for the elevator just outside of C-Sec where they found Garrus tapping his foot impatiently. “Garrus! I didn’t expect to see you ready so soon.”

Garrus Vakarian was taller than the turian average, had earth-tan plates with blue clan markings across his nose, cheeks, and mandibles. He’d changed into civies with a t-shirt depicting some turian rock band. “I’ve learned to pack light,” he answered, lightly lifting the bag over his shoulder for the others to see. “It’s so I don’t have to worry about delays. Like the elevators.”

Amanda let out a light laugh. “You’d think with for as advanced as the protheans were, they’d have some better elevator technology. Ready to take Saren down?”

Vakarian had been assigned a doomed investigation into Saren’s activities in the weeks leading up to his attack on Eden Prime. Already, much of his work was protected by black bars on a file, so most if not all he dug up was inconclusive or already out for the public to see. “You bet. Though I can probably tell my dad’s gonna have a heart attack after he learns about this.”

The elevator car finally crawled into view and her eyes watched it float to their level and open. “Yeah? How so?”

“He was a 314 veteran. Had all sorts of nasty stories about the _evil_ humans. Mom would always have a field day. He trusts Spectres even less after his transfer to C-Sec when the when the conflict ended. That, and being on a human ship with _Miller_ of all people,” he continued, stepping into the elevator and thumbing the button.

“What did he have to say about the Commonwealth?”

“I’ve always gotten mixed messaging about the terrans growing up. Some of my superior officers had stories of their own ancestors fighting alongside them for numerous small conflicts. Others like my dad only told about their brutish appearance in the Relay-314 Incident. Between you and him, he’d die, resurrect as an unkillable death machine, glass both Earth and Midgard, tear the Citadel in half for letting me wander off, and die again. Honestly, I’m just excited to work both of you to begin with, regardless of which tale is accurate.”

“Anderson seems to think otherwise.”

“Yeah? How so?”

“He wouldn’t tell me.” As if on que, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened to reveal Anderson, Miller, and Udina on the gangway. Besides the latter were the large case of weapon parts and armor components he promised earlier. His helmet was finally off two and Amanda got a good look at the back of his slicked black hair. The three were in deep conversation when Udina spotted them leaving the elevator.

The ambassador gestured them over. “Commander! Glad you finally arrived. I’ve got big news for you. Captain Anderson is stepping down as commanding officer of the _Normandy_. The ship is now yours.”

Amanda blinked in surprise, but she barely had time to speak before Anderson explained, “She’s quick, quiet, and you know the crew. A perfect ship for a Spectre. Take good care of her, commander.”

“You have my word, captain. But you could at least spill the beans.”

“You needed your own ship. Spectres don’t answer to anyone but the Council. Besides, my time’s up.”

“Anderson, you could at least come clean with me before we depart.”

Miller gave him a glance. “You should tell her.”

“Only if you tell yours.”

The terran captain clenched his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. But you’re going first.”

“That’s fair. I was in your shoes almost two decades back. They considered me for the Spectres.”

She blinked in surprise. “That wasn’t considered need-to-know?”

“What the hell was I supposed to say? ‘I could’ve been a Spectre and I blew it’? I failed, commander. I’m not proud of it either. I won’t go into the specifics, but Saren and I were on a mission together. He was sent to keep evaluate my performance and made sure the Council rejected me. We had intel on a rogue batarian scientist funded by the Hegemony working with AI out in the Verge. The Alliance did all the intel, but the Council wanted a Spectre involved. We compromised with Saren.

“The two of us tracked the scientist to Camala behind a legion of batarian mercenaries. The original plan was to get in and out without too much commotion. We split up to cover more ground. An hour later, the refinery core detonated. It was ruled an accident, but I have no doubts he triggered it as a diversion. Black ash spewed everywhere and everyone in the refinery at the time died. Camps were established for the civies nearby, but the explosion continued to poison the atmosphere. Final death count sat at three hundred.

“Saren didn’t care. The mission was completed. He threw me under the bus and that ended my potential as a candidate.” Anderson guiltily stared at the ground before looking back to Miller. “Now it’s your turn.”

Miller shifted uncomfortably and guiltily sighed. “The year before the Earthborn Crisis, I trained him for a year. It was for a political favor from years back we had with the Hierarchy. I’ve passed on everything I know, and he’ll be at least as good as me or have surpassed me in the years since then. But at the very least, you’ll have an equivalent. On an unrelated note, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Not that I care, but in case you need to know.

“He was like anyone us at basic. Stary eyed, a bit too optimistic, and I taught him to be an ass alongside the hundreds of ways you can kill a man and complete an objective alone. Should I have been allowed to teach him? Maybe not. Between that and the Earthborn Crisis, everything just happened so fast. My only regret now is that we’re going toe-to-toe with him.”

“Anyways, I cross-referenced the locations mentioned in the audio-clip the quarian brought. We’ve confirmed that geth were reported at our colony on Feros shortly before we lost contact and there have been geth sightings on Noveria,” Udina resumed.

“What about the Reapers?” Amanda asked.

“I’m with the Council on this one. I’m not sure they even exist.”

“Even if they do, the Conduit is important for their return. Cut Saren off before he can reach it and we stop the Reapers.”

“Ah, one more thing. We’ve got a lead on that Matriarch Benezia that Tevos identified from the audio. She has a daughter. An archeologist who specializes in protheans. We don’t know to what extent she’s involved with this conspiracy, but she should still be able to provide aid to our cause. Her name is Dr. Liara T’Soni. Her last known location was a dig site was on an uncharted world in the Artemis Tau Cluster.”

“At any rate. Where you start is your choice now. You’re a Spectre. How you cut up this behemoth is up to you, Shepard.”

“Just remember. Your actions still reflect on humanity. Any mess you leave is another mess I have to clean up.”

The last thing she needed was a solid reminder she was tethered to the ambassador. “I’ll do what I can to not kick up any dust clouds.”

“Good. Don’t you forget you were a human long before you were a Spectre. Anyways, I have a meeting to get to. Best of luck, commander.”

Captain Anderson sighed and pocketed his hands. “Honestly, I didn’t think my career would end pushing papers. But I have faith in your ability to perform.”

“Thanks, captain. We won’t let you down,” she sighed somberly. “C’mon guys. Let’s get packed and settled into place. We’re leaving in an hour.”


End file.
